A Love that Transforms a Nation
by NewSong
Summary: If PK's names were never drawn in the Reaping and they never became tributes in the Games, would their love still be enough to fan the flames of rebellion and revolution across the districts of Panem?
1. Chapter 1: Bundles of Bread

**Greetings! **

**So, seeing as I only recently discovered the glorious world of fan fiction, this is my first attempt at writing one! I read the Hunger Games trilogy a couple of weeks ago and fell in love with the dynamic between Peeta and Katniss :) Then, yesterday I started wondering about what would've happened between PK if their names were never drawn in the reaping... Would their love still be able to fan the flames of rebellion? Who knows? Honestly, I'm not even sure yet. I have some ideas, but y'all are going to have to be patient with me. This is a tough topic, but I am intrigued enough to go there. So, let's have an adventure! Whoop! Buckle up, my friends...**

**PS) Please review with thoughts, comments, suggestions, ideas, etc.**

**Diclaimer: There is no way that I came up with the epic-ness of the Hunger Games... That is all Suzanne Collins**

* * *

Intrigued, I ponder the brown paper bundle placed neatly on the ground in front of the door. I wonder what this is all about. Curiosity takes over, and I pick it up and receive a slight shock as my fingers adjust to the warmth radiating from whatever is inside the package. I continue unwrapping the paper while I cross the threshold into the house. Out of my peripheral vision, I notice Prim sitting with Buttercup in her lap sorting and packaging the different herbs that have been drying ever since I gathered them from the woods the other day.

"Katniss!" squeals Prim with excitement after she notices my presence in the room. "What'd you get today?"

"I don't know, little duck. I found this outside the door. It's warm though. How 'bout we find out?" Prim runs over to the table where I just finished tearing off the paper from the package. It's a loaf of cheese bread. Oh. My. Gosh. There is only one person who would have placed this bread outside my door. Peeta Mellark.

I stand in complete shock for a few minutes as I rack my brain for the potential cause of this gift. Did I do something unintentionally nice for him this week? No, we don't even talk. Ever. Maybe he thought our trade was unfair this time around and wanted to even things out between us? After all, I did shoot a couple of good-sized rabbits and squirrels this week. But the Mellarks have always been especially generous when it comes to our trades anyways. I remember the extra loaf of bread in the sack in addition to our normal amount of bread. I don't understand.

"Woah. Katniss, what is this for?" Prim's question along with the tantalizing scent of cheddar bread interrupts my wonderings and brings me back to the present. I lock eyes with hers and we stare at each other for a few seconds before I shrug. I don't want to bring up the topic of Peeta Mellark. No one knows about the incident with the bread that day outside the bakery, and I plan to keep it that way.

"Where's mom? We should go ahead and eat some while it's warm," I say hoping to distract myself from the frustrating thoughts fluttering across my mind. It's not working very well. Why? Why would he do this?

"She went to check on Lady. I'll go get her." With those words, Prim bounces through the back door to share the good news with our mother. I am left alone to battle with my own thoughts once again. Why would he do this? The question keeps nagging me for an answer. I know that his giving me a fresh loaf of this bread could cause him some serious punishment if his mother ever found out. She hates me and everyone else who lives in the Seam. Finally, because I am at a loss for an answer to my question, I resolve to pay him back for his trouble. That's that. I hate owing people, and I already owe Peeta Mellark my life.

* * *

The next day, I leave the house earlier than usual. I need some extra time to hunt so I can repay Peeta. Hopefully he will accept my compensation for the bread, and hopefully I won't have to worry about any more of these odd situations. Honestly, it is this kind of stuff that makes life unnecessarily complicated. Doesn't he see that?

I walk straight to the weak spot in the fence, maneuver my way under the wire, grab my bow and arrows, and find my way to check the snares for game. After shoving several dead squirrels and rabbits into my game bag, I head deeper into the woods to begin the day's hunt.

I put several hundred yards between myself and the fence when I begin to feel like something is following me. Cautiously, I load one of my arrows in my bow and prepare for attack. My heart is pounding in my chest as adrenaline rushes through my body. If I am being followed by a predator, I need to make the first move without giving it any reason to attack. I ready myself to spin around in a moment's notice. One… Two… Before I can even think the word three, a familiar voice sends a wave of relief over me.

"Hey Catnip." It's Gale. Good thing he spoke up before I got to three. I shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he waited only a second more to reveal his presence.

"Gale! Don't sneak up on me like that!" I reprimand, as my heart tries to regain its normal rate.

"Sorry. I didn't expect to see you here yet. What are you doing out so early?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I couldn't sleep. The Reaping is next week. I usually have a hard time sleeping this time of the year." I nod in understanding, hoping that he forgets that I haven't responded to his question. He doesn't. "Your turn."

"No reason, really. I'm just hoping to get a little extra to trade in town today." I avoid eye contact, but I can already sense that Gale is suspicious.

"Is there a reason you need extra to trade? Is everything okay?" I was right. He knows something is up.

"Everyone is fine, Gale. Don't worry. I just figured I should try to get ahead while I can."

"While you can?"

I am digging myself deeper into a hole here. How can I get him to drop it? "I only mean… I'm just taking precautions, you know…" I can feel Gale's eyes staring at me as I struggle to make sense of my early morning excursion. "My name will be in twenty times next week, Gale. The odds are most definitely not in my favor…" That should do it. When in doubt, talk about the Games. After all, that is the one thing people are always worried about around here… besides starving.

"Katniss… stop thinking like that." I can hear the concern in his voice. Great, now Gale is worried.

"It's true!" I snap back. I am surprised at myself for the sudden tone of emotion that erupts from me. Apparently, this is a more sensitive topic than I thought.

"Katniss, there are plenty of other names that could be drawn. You'll be fine." I look at Gale and see that he is watching me with a look of sadness in his eyes mixed with a flicker of worry.

"Hmph! I don't really want to talk about it, okay? Can we just do what we came here to do?" I huff. I really didn't expect for this conversation to be so frustrating. Scowling, I turn away from Gale to begin hunting with or without him. At this point, I could care less. Several minutes later, I spot a wild turkey, take my aim, and hit my target. Perfect. The Mellarks love turkey.

Once my game bag is packed full of herbs, berries, and kills, I turn to leave, ignoring Gale who has been following me silently since our conversation ended earlier this morning.

"See ya later, Catnip," Gale says almost apologetically. I pretend like I didn't hear him. I've got enough to worry about without him interrogating me.

I make my way back into town to trade with the usual people in town and at the Hob. When I get to the bakery, I decide to go around the back and leave the turkey outside the door. I don't want to risk someone stealing it. I have to even things out between Peeta and me. He needs to know how I work.

With a feeling of triumph, I make my way back to the Seam with enough food to feed our little family along with some of the things I traded my meat for in town. As soon as I get to the house, I notice yet another bundle of bread sitting at the doorstep. My feeling of triumph fades and is quickly replaced with anger. Pure, unadulterated anger.

I stomp inside and throw the bread on the table in my frustration. Luckily, no one is home. Explaining my angry reaction to free bread would spark questions I do not have the patience to answer right now. After several minutes of fuming in the midst of the confusing questions and thoughts that continue to haunt me, I decide that if he is going to play dirty, then so am I. Peeta Mellark has just started a war.


	2. Chapter 2: The Boy with the Bread

**Hello!**

**First off, I wanted to give you guys a short snippet about my life so you get an idea of who is writing this. I am a senior (and will be for three stinkin' semesters… L) studying English Education for 4-8****th**** grade with a minor in Spanish (whoop!) at a private university. I love drinking tea, hiking, adventuring, traveling, spending quality time with people, eating chocolate, and most of all loving Jesus! YAY! I am a huge fan of the Harry Potter series, The Lord of the Rings, The Hunger Games, The Chronicles of Narinia, etc. They are all awesome! I want to write a children's book one day. Hmmmm… that's all for now. If I ever get another random urge to explode facts about myself, then I will indulge it. **

**Thanks for reviewing/following! So, August 26****th**** I start classes once again, so I am hoping to get several chapters posted while I sit in complete boredom at work for almost thirty hours next week. Once school begins, I am not so sure how much time I will be able to devote to this epic story, but please hang in there… I really want to see where this story goes, and I hope y'all do as well! You rock my socks! J**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HG… Never have, never will.**

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Unfortunately for me, bread keeps popping up on my doorstep for several weeks. Every day it is a different type from rye bread to sweet bread to cornbread. Except for Sundays, my hunting days. On those days it's always cheesy bread which happens to be my favorite. I wonder if he knows that? Maybe I mentioned it one day in the bakery when we were making a trade. It doesn't matter! _Focus, Katniss._ Anyways, the Everdeen household has not experienced a shortage of bread for several weeks now. Despite the convenience of having fresh bread delivered to my doorstep each day, I am really having a hard time keeping up with this kid. I can't hunt every single day, so I have to find some way to either give him enough meat for the week or save enough meat to distribute to the Mellark residence once each day. I really just want this to be over. Maybe I should just talk to him? For some reason, I feel like that would be crossing some unforeseen barrier between us, and I am not entirely sure I am up for that at this point.

I really wasn't up for it. But that was before I came home to _two_ bundles of bread on my doorstep. _What the heck, Peeta!?_ What am I supposed to do with this? One loaf was enough. Now, he is just being excessive. How can he even afford this? I wonder if his mother has found out yet. Regardless, this has to stop. At that moment, I resolve to confront him at school the following day.

* * *

On the day of confrontation, I wake up with immediate thoughts revolving around bread. This bread thing has gotten way out of hand. Peeta needs to know that I can't keep up with his bread deliveries. I just don't have enough time to hunt, and being even more indebted to Peeta Mellark is simply not an option for me. Period.

I throw on my usual green shirt and a pair of pants, and I weave my hair into my normal side-braid. Breakfast consists of a few of the berries and roots I gathered in the woods and a small cup of goat's milk from Lady. After I grab my pencil and paper, I head out the door with Prim following by my side. I always walk with her to and from school, but today I am distracted with a feeling of anxiety and thoughts of bread. So. Much. Bread. What am I going to say to Peeta? How can I convey my feelings on this matter? I decide to wing it. Planning has never really been my thing.

"I noticed that we got two rolls of bread yesterday. What is it with all this bread, Katniss?" Prim looks at me with a questioning expression.

_I don't know, Prim. Maybe you could tell me? _"No idea. It's weird, isn't it?" I say without making eye contact.

"Yeah. Really weird, but I'm not complaining." I watch as Prim grins and bounces beside me, and I realize with a twinge of guilt that today could be the end of this whole bread arrangement. I do enjoy the bread, but I can't keep paying him back for all of it. I can't just accept it either. He needs to know that.

We finally arrive at the school building, and I drop Prim off in her class before heading straight to mine. As I walk inside, I can't help but notice Peeta staring at me as I make my way to my desk. This is so ridiculous. Is he trying to rub it in? I plop down into my chair, cross my arms, and scowl hoping that he will catch on. Though, I never get a chance to find out because the teacher chooses to walk in and begin class at that moment.

The day drags on and on as the teacher lectures on Panem's history, the industry of the districts, the greatness of the Capitol, and more topics which have all been taught repeatedly throughout my years in school. It's pretty pointless if you ask me. During class, I decide to catch up with Peeta as soon as school is let out. This thing ends today.

The bell rings, and I rush out the door to wait for Peeta. My classmates pass me one by one, and then I spot him as he swings his book bag onto his shoulder. I make eye contact with him for a brief moment as I wait for him to approach. I notice a sudden redness overtake his face, he breaks the connection, and he walks right past me. _He walks right past me._ _What? You have got to be kidding me! _Suddenly, anger takes over. I have had enough of this game. I hate games.

I run up behind him, grab his shoulder, and pin him against the wall.

"What the _heck_, Mellark! What's your deal? Huh?" I shout in his face. People are starting to look, but I don't care. This whole thing is simply ridiculous.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about…" He is avoiding my glare. I can tell he's guilty.

"The bread, Mellark! What is the deal with the bread?!" I can tell that he is extremely uncomfortable. Good. He should be.

"Katniss…" He finally looks at me, and I can't help but relax a little at the sight of his blue eyes. They say that eyes are the window into a person's soul, and if that's the case, Peeta Mellark must have a good soul. When I look at him, all I see is goodness and kindness. "Katniss, I was just trying to help. I promise." He's not lying. His eyes say it all. He was only being _nice_.

I sigh and back away from him. The people who were watching our little exchange began to disperse. I look down at my feet as I explain the situation.

"I don't need anyone's help. I've survived this long, haven't I?" _Only because he gave you bread. _Why do I think things like that? They only make it worse.

I look up only because I felt a hand, _his _hand, on my shoulder. I meet his gaze once again.

"Katniss, sometimes it's not just about surviving. It's okay to accept help. It's okay to receive someone's gift." I watch as the corner of his mouth curves into a friendly smile. "Thank you for all the meat, though. I've had quite the time trying to explain it to my family."

"I just—I can't accept the bread, Peeta. You've already done enough for me. I can never repay you."

"What are you talking about, Katniss?" He looks thoroughly confused. I sigh.

"That day with the bread. Behind the bakery." I refuse to look away. He needs to know.

"Oh." Peeta begins to shift nervously. "That—Katniss, that was… nothing. It was just the right thing to do, you know?" he responds quietly.

"'_The right thing to do_'? Peeta, you saved my life that day. I—I guess I should've thanked you, but I didn't know how." Where is all this coming from? I have never acknowledged that day to anyone. Not even Peeta.

"It's okay, Katniss. I don't need a 'thank you,' and as much as I enjoy it, I don't even need your meat. I just wanted to help is all, and you don't have to pay me for it. If you keep doing that, then it's not a gift, is it?"

I am trying to find a way out of this mess. I don't understand. All I want to do is cry, and I'm not even sure why. We have barely spoken to each other over the years, but now, after a few minutes of conversation, I want to run away and cry. I don't cry, and that's part of the reason why this is so strange. I pull myself together and ask the question that has been eating at me ever since that day with the bread so long ago.

"Why? I don't understand. People don't just give people food like that. Not in District 12, anyways. There has to be some reason… Unless, of course, you give bread to every household in the Seam. In that case, please, continue doing the '_right thing._'" At these words, I pull away from him and glare at him, hoping to force a response from him. I need to know what all this is about. I'm tired of trying to figure it out alone.

He blushes and looks a way for a moment trying to collect his thoughts. Then, he sighs and looks me straight in the eye. "Do you really want to know, Katniss?" I nod. "Okay, well I—I guess… How about you meet me in the Meadow tomorrow night?"

Shocked, I raise my eyebrows in confusion. _Just tell me now._ As if reading my mind, he explains, "It's—I—It's a long story and I know Prim is probably waiting for you."

I guess I don't really have much of an option, do I? I sigh impatiently. "Fine. Tomorrow, in the Meadow at six. Don't be late." At that, I turn on my heels and march off to find Prim. Even so, thoughts of bread continue to whirl through my mind. And I thought this conversation would clear things up. Leave it to the boy with the bread.


	3. Chapter 3: Deep in the Meadow

**Howdy, y'all! **

**I am enjoying the ninety degree (Fahrenheit) weather courtesy of a recent cold front. Yes, I said 90 degrees and cold front in the same sentence. Gotta love Tejas! Anyways, thanks for following/reviewing/faving (I just made that up) my story! If you have a spare moment, please shoot me a quick review! I LOVE feedback! It will keep me going (especially once school starts up)! **

**Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HG! Geez!**

* * *

Bread. Last night, I dreamt of bread. I honestly didn't think it was possible, but at this point, I have given up trying to understand. I'm just thankful I didn't dream about that little girl from District 11 getting speared by that career. Lately, I have seen her a lot during my dreams. Sometimes I wake up crying because she reminds me so much of Prim. She was too young to die. They were all too young to die, all twenty three of them. Part of me wishes that anyone but that Cato guy from Two won. Something about the ease with which he kills people makes my stomach roll. At least it's over for another year. Now all I have to worry about is keeping food on the table and enduring the nightmares which are the annual repercussion of the Games.

The rising sun is beginning to creep through the curtained windows. I can hear the mockingjays singing random notes in the trees of the Seam. I stretch my arms and my back as I postpone my departure from bed. I'd better get started. Today is the day I find out about the boy with the bread. Finally.

I go through my morning routine and help Prim with her two braids. We each have a slice of bread with goat's cheese for breakfast and head out the door for another day of school. As we walk through the Seam, I can't help but appreciate the beauty of the day. The breeze on my face sends shivers up my spine. I decide that today will be a good day. We cross the invisible barrier between the Seam and Town, and I find myself staring at the bakery and wondering if Peeta is there. Wait, what? Why does that even matter? _It doesn't_, I tell myself. _It doesn't mean anything. _Besides, Peeta always gets to school early, so of course he isn't there. I force my eyes on anything but the bakery. The rocks on the pavement. My untied shoelaces. The Hob. Prim. The bakery.

_Stop that, Katniss!_

"Hey Prim," I blurt out, eager to distract myself from thoughts of bread and bakeries, "I'm going to the woods after school today. I will walk you home, but I need you to tell mom that I'll be home after dinner. Okay, little duck?"

"Okay." Prim shrugs and continues skipping through town. I can't help but smile at my little sister. She made it through her first Reaping and has yet to change at all. In many ways, she seems to be the exception to the rules. She lives in the Seam but looks like she is from Town. She is only twelve, but when an injured person is brought to the kitchen table, she takes on the skills and determination of an experienced healer. Years of living in poor conditions do not affect her. She is not the typical hard, rough native of the Seam; instead, she is a breath of fresh air, a ray of light in this dark world. I love her with all my heart. There is nothing I wouldn't do for her. She is everything to me.

My thoughts are cut short as we enter the school building. Like always, I drop Prim off and head to class for another day filled with Capitol propaganda. _Two more years, Katniss. You're almost there._ That is what I continually have to remind myself of five days a week. I wonder what I will do once school is over, but I stop thinking about that as soon as I realize that I'm having a hard time breathing. I can't work in the mines. I physically can't do it. Just thinking about it makes me hyperventilate.

Distraction… I need a distraction.

"Miss Everdeen, is everything alright?" It takes me a moment to register that someone said my name. "Katniss…?" It is the teacher, Mrs. Aspen, and she has a concerned look in her eyes. I look around and notice that most of the people in class are staring at me.

"Katniss!" I hear Gale whisper sharply behind me, and I snap out of it. I take a deep breath to calm myself once I realize that my breathing is still labored. That must be why everyone is staring. Great.

"Yeah—I'm sorry. I… um… I was just having a hard time catching my breath. I ran to class today. Didn't want to be late." Mrs. Aspen nods in my direction and returns to whatever it was that she was talking about. Everyone turns away from me to listen to her. Everyone except for Peeta, that is. Out of my peripheral vision, I notice that he is still watching me intently. Oh, Peeta. If only I could get inside that blonde head of yours… Then, maybe I would understand.

As the day drags on, I am anxious to escape into the woods for a couple of hours, and when the bell rings, I am the first to dart out of the classroom. I swing by Prim's class, grab her hand, and rush out the door.

"Katniss! What's the hurry?" Prim asks breathlessly. Within five minutes, we are almost to the Seam.

"The woods," I breathe. "I want to be in the woods. I hate school, especially on a day like today. I need to escape, Prim."

We rush on until we are finally outside the front door. I run inside to grab my father's hunting jacket.

"Bye, Prim! See ya later!" I don't wait for a response. Instead, I burst back out of the house and sprint to the weak spot in the fence in a matter of minutes. _I must be making record time_, I think to myself_._ I shimmy under the fence, snatch my bow, and throw my quiver of arrows over my shoulders. As soon as I am far enough away from the fence, I find a tree and climb as high as I can. Once I settle onto a sturdy bough, I allow myself to sink back and breathe the fresh air. I start counting the number of breaths I breathe, and by the time I get to fifteen, I feel like a new person. Relaxation overtakes my body, and I drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

I wake with a start. The sun is significantly lower since I drifted off. I have to have been out for a couple hours. For some reason, I have this funny feeling that I should be doing something. Suddenly, it comes to me. _Peeta. The Meadow. _As quickly as the thought flashes across my mind, I begin climbing down the tree and rushing back to the fence. I throw my bow and arrows into the hollowed out tree, shimmy back under the fence, and find myself sprinting through the Meadow, searching for Peeta.

After glancing several times all around me, I spot him. He is sitting on a large rock a few yards away from where I am standing. I walk up to sit on the open face of the rock next to him.

"Hey," he says sheepishly.

"Hi." I can't help but smile at this two-word exchange. Before yesterday's confrontation, it was pretty much the only conversation we ever had. "Sorry I'm a bit late. I fell asleep. I literally just woke up a few minutes ago."

"It's okay. I was enjoying the weather and listening to the mockingjays. They sure do seem to sing a lot more lately."

"Yeah. I noticed that this morning," I add. After a few minutes of silence, filled only by the chirps and melodies of mockingjays, I decide to encourage him a bit. "So… What's the deal? You said you would tell me if I came to meet you. If it's such a long story, we might as well start now."

"Yeah. I guess so…" he sighs and then turns to face me. "Well… um… do you remember our first day of school? When Mrs. Skylark asked if anyone knew the Valley Song and you volunteered?"

"Yes, I remember," I reply.

"Well…I—um…" he seems to be struggling with words today, an issue which is completely uncharacteristic of Peeta Mellark. Words have always been his strong point. "I guess that when it all started," he continues.

I'm confused. "That's when what all started?"

He takes a moment to gather himself, and I see a decision flash in his eyes. He turns to me, looks me straight in the eyes. His sky blue eyes lock onto my steel gray ones. "Katniss… I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to go for it… I—I really like you. Ever since the first day I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. Since then, all I've wanted to do is help you be happy. That's all. That's why I keep giving you bread." As he says those last few words, he leans over and picks up a familiar bundle wrapped in brown paper to hand to me. Bread.

I don't know how many minutes pass before I realize my mouth is hanging open in shock. I can't believe this. This whole thing is completely unexpected. How could I have missed it all of these years? After another minute of silence, Peeta adds, "It's okay if you don't feel the same way. I understand…"

"Wha—I mean—I… um…" I stutter, searching for words that won't come. I take a deep breath and say, "I—I had no idea, Peeta. I'm sorry. I—I just don't think I can give you what you are looking for…. I mean—with the Games and surviving and everything, I just have never really considered a relationship as something I should pursue… I hope you understand. You're a great guy, Peeta, and I mean that… You really are." I can feel the redness overtaking my cheeks, so I look away, hoping that he won't notice.

"It's okay, Katniss… Really, I didn't expect you to feel the same. I just wanted you to know how I felt. It bothered me that my actions we so confusing for you. I wasn't trying to make things complicated. I just wanted to help. I hope you will still accept my bread every so often. It's been hard sneaking it from the bakery, but knowing that your family has bread to eat, makes it worth it all."

Oh. My. Gosh. This guy is so nice. I almost can't even handle it. I want to run away and cry. Again. Why does he always affect me like this? "Peeta… I'm really sorry. I appreciate your bread and everything you have done for me. You have given me hope that there really are genuinely good people in this horrible world. Thank you. I wish I could give you what you want, but I—I just can't. I'm sorry." I look away. I can't bear the sadness in his eyes.

"Hey, don't apologize," he consoles as he places his hand gently under my chin so he can turn my face toward his. "It's okay. I get it. I just needed to put it out there, you know? I think you are amazing and beautiful, Katniss, and I always will. I don't think I will ever stop feeling these things for you, but that's okay." With a sincere smile, he tries to diffuse the tension, "I will just have to channel my feelings into icing cakes. Then, maybe even my mother won't be able to deny my talent."

Regardless of his attempt at lightening the mood, my shock has not faded in the least. No one has ever said stuff like this about me. I don't have a grid for this type of conversation. I need to escape.

"Yeah… Well—er—thank you for being honest. And thanks for the bread," I say quickly as I stand up to leave. "I guess I'll… um… see you at school?" He nods. "Okay. Bye, Peeta." I turn and walk away, trying to maintain my composure. Despite all my efforts, the tears begin to fall. One after the other. Eventually, I find a small space behind a bush to curl up, and as soon as I'm settled, I break down. My whole body shudders and rocks as sobs overtake me in waves. I can't stop. And I still have no idea why I am even crying. Maybe it was the fact that the last man who said any of those kinds of things to me was my father. Maybe it was the look in Peeta's eyes as he confessed his love for me. Maybe it was the sadness I felt for Peeta when I realized I could never be who he wants for me to be. Maybe it's all of that put together. I don't know. All I know is that I never expected things to go the way they did today in the Meadow. My heart feels like it is swollen and enlarged with… with some feeling I can't pinpoint. Whatever it is terrifies me, but I have a feeling it is there to stay.


	4. Chapter 4: Love Means Risk

**Sorry I didn't post as much as I planned to! That last week before the semester was crazy! We had to move everything out of our office to get new carpet. SO. MANY. BOOKS. **

**Anyways, these first few chapters have to set the stage for the coming adventure. We have to establish the love between PK before it can send the entire nation into rebellion… From some of the ideas my friend and I have worked out, it is going to be intense, and y'all may seriously hate me by the end. That's okay because I will still love me (haha)… **

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own HG… It's just fun to try a different angle with the plot.**

* * *

_Where am I?_ I wonder as I glance around the bushy cocoon that surrounds me. From the orange that ignites the darkening sky around me, I can tell that it must be around dusk. I am struggling to remember how I ended up curled up behind a random cluster of bushes. I must have fallen asleep. Small snippets of the day begin rushing through my mind. School. Woods. Meadow. Peeta.

_Peeta_.

He loves me.

That's how I ended up here. I remember the flicker of hope drain from those sky blue eyes as I rejected him. I remember the heart-spoken words rivaled only by those of my own father. As the memories flood back, my heart begins to weigh heavy with confusing emotions. While part of me is still shocked by Peeta's feelings for me, the other part of me wishes that I could go back in time and take the sadness from his eyes. It hurts me that I hurt Peeta. He is such a good person. He deserves to be happy. He deserves to be loved unconditionally. Even though I have spent most of my life refusing to pursue any kind of relationship that may lead to anything more than friendship, there is a tiny piece of my heart that wishes I could love him back.

_But only because I can't stand the sight of a broken-hearted Peeta, _I think.

I realize that my mother and Prim are expecting me to be home soon, so I force myself out of my hiding spot to head home. As I stand up, I feel something roll out of my lap and land with a light thud on the crunchy leaves at my feet. I search for the source of the noise and find the bundle of bread wrapped in brown paper which Peeta handed me in the Meadow. Well, there's no sense in wasting perfectly good bread. I pick it up and walk through the Seam to my little house. When I open the door, I find my mother and Prim cleaning dishes from dinner.

"There's some left over rabbit stew on the table if you're hungry. It's probably not so warm anymore," my mother informs me with a nod to the pot sitting on the table.

"Thanks."

"How were the woods?" inquires a bright-eyed Prim.

"Great," I respond with only a slight twinge of guilt. I really did go to the woods. That just wasn't the only thing I did today after school.

I set the loaf of bread on the table, cut a small slice to go with my stew, and spoon some of the lukewarm and lumpy broth into my bowl.

"Katniss, do you and the Mellarks have some kind of arrangement with this whole fresh bread delivery thing?" asks my mother while eying the new loaf of bread curiously.

"Um… yeah." I don't want to say too much or provoke unwanted questions.

"Oh. Good. I've been wondering."

After dinner, I go to help Prim brush out her braids. All the while, I can't keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of today's encounter with Peeta.

* * *

The next morning I wake up before the sun has risen, get dressed, throw on my father's hunting jacket and head out the door for a good hunt. After all this confusion, it will be nice to let loose and relax in the woods without worries about bread and meadows and Peeta Mellark.

Once I make it to the hollowed out tree with my bow and quiver of arrows, I set off to find mine and Gale's meeting place. He said he would be coming this morning with breakfast, and heaven knows I love a good picnic in the woods. As soon as I arrive, my eyes catch sight of a familiar face.

"Catnip! Fancy meeting you here!"

"Shut up!" I tease as I climb up on the rock to sit in the empty space next to Gale. He lays out a few berries that he probably gathered before my arrival, and I unpack some goat's cheese and a few slices of the bread that Peeta gave me yesterday in the meadow.

Peeta.

_Stop that, Katniss!_

"This is some good bread, Catnip," mentions Gale questioningly.

"Yeah, well, I caught some good squirrels the other day," I lie. My kills have been of the same quality as they have always been. But Gale doesn't have to know that. Besides, I'm really not in the mood for prying questions.

"Yeah?" Gale raises an eyebrow. I nod. End of discussion. We both finish our meager breakfast in silence. We need energy for the hunt.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry to interrupt, but this is the beginning of the section which comes straight from Suzanne Collins' novel _The Hunger Games_. It ends at the next section break. Enjoy.**

* * *

"We could do it, you know," Gale says spontaneously.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale.

I don't know how to respond. The idea is so preposterous.

"If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly.

They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. Prim. And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling.

"I never want to get married or have kids," I say. Even as I say this, flashes of blue eyes drift across my mind. Really, I don't know what has gotten into me lately.

"I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale.

"But you do," I say, irritated.

"Forget it," he snaps back.

The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love? And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so why bother talking about it? And even if we did…even if we did…where did this stuff about having kids come from? There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out.

Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

"What do you want to do?" I ask. We can hunt, fish, or gather.

"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for dinner," he says.

We make out well. The predators ignore us on a day when easier, tastier prey abounds. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens and, best of all, a gallon of strawberries. I found a patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.

* * *

On the way home, we make our regular trade stops at the Hob and at various houses. We end up with a decent haul: fish, greens, strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a few coins each. By pretending to be fascinated by the floral shop next door, I skipped the bakery while Gale bought some bread. The Everdeen household has more than enough bread left over from Peeta's gift in the meadow. Wait. No, I'm not thinking about that. I am _not_ thinking about _him_. Regardless, bread was not on my list of things to buy, and seeing Peeta at the bakery does not seem to be a very good idea given my current state.

Even so, the talk about kids and marriage is still whirling around in the back of my mind, and with it, swirls thoughts of a boy with bread and running away from District 12. No matter how hard I try to push it all back into oblivion, I can't.

_I knew there was something special about you. _

_I think you are amazing and beautiful, Katniss, and I always will._

The words Peeta spoke to me in the meadow have yet to decrease in potency. Since my father passed away, I've never heard anyone—let alone a _boy_—say those things about me. Even though I cannot accept them fully, my heart flutters with pride to think that someone else could see that I have value apart from hunting and, well… hunting.

As we approach the place in the Seam where Gale and I typically part ways, he waves goodbye and turns toward his own home. I continue the short journey to my little house, and as I catch sight of my door, I notice that Peeta has decided not to cease his gift-giving. Annoyed and confused, I step inside and lay out our supplies and food on the table along with the fresh loaf of bread from Peeta. Once again, I am not sure what to do about this bread situation, but my thoughts are interrupted. Immediately after I close the door, Prim senses my presence and runs to my side to help store things away in their proper places.

"Mmmmm. Strawberries," Prim says with excited eyes. She's always loved the sweet taste of strawberries. _Fitting_, I think. _Sweet fruit for a sweet girl._ I can't help but smile. But it is short-lived. My mind immediately finds its way back to those confusing thoughts surrounding my conversation with Gale in the woods. My face must be revealing my internal turmoil because Prim raises her eyebrows questioningly. I brace myself for the inevitable.

"Katniss, is everything alright?"

I attempt to keep my face strong and my voice steady as I reply. "Yes." My voice cracks as I try to speak this one simple word. Crap.

"Katniss, it's okay. You can talk to me." Her eyes tell me she cares. She really wants me to confide in her. Why shouldn't I? She's my sister after all.

Before I realize what I am doing, I say, "Gale and I talked about marriage today."

"What?!" Prim asks in surprise. I'm sure it seems strange since she has watched us grow up together as friends. "Finally!" That last part catches me by surprise. _Finally?_ What's that supposed to mean?

"What do you mean,_'Finally' _?" I watch as a smirk forms at her lips.

"I only mean that I've been waiting for something like this to happen," she says with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Prim!" I exclaim in shock. "There is nothing between Gale and me. You know that, right?"

"_Nothing_?" She asks with a mischievous look in her eye.

"Yes! I promise!" I reply. Her face falls in disappointment.

"Well, I don't know if Gale would say the same thing. He looks at you differently now. Something's changed." I don't really know how to respond.

Now that she mentions it, I have noticed a difference in him lately. His eyes seem to have more light in them than usual. And he smiles more. And he wants to get married.

Oh, no. Not again. _Two_ boys love me. _Two_. And I don't love them back. At least, I think I don't. I've never loved a boy before, so I don't really know what it feels like. I mean, I love Gale as a friend, but I could never be married to him. Or anyone. _Especially_ not a baker's son.

"Yeah," I say, "I guess I didn't realize it until now, but something has changed."

"What did he say?"

I lower my voice in case anyone is listening. "Only that he wanted me to run away from District 12 with him and that he wanted to get married and have a family one day."

"Oh." Prim says with a look of concern on her face. After a few moments of silence, Prim speaks up. "You know, Katniss, you don't always have to be afraid of falling in love."

"I'm _not_ afraid," I respond defensively. "I just don't want to get married. Marriage means having kids, and having kids means the Reaping and the Games. I couldn't do that. I couldn't have kids, Prim."

"That's what I mean. You're afraid to fall in love because you don't want to get hurt or end up hurting someone you love. But, Katniss, bad things can always happen. Even if the Games didn't exist, accidents and illness would. People would still get hurt. You can't guarantee anyone's safety. All you can do is love them well while you have them. That could be for two days or for eighty years. You never know. But sometimes we have to trust in the good things more than the bad."

I understand what she is saying. It makes sense. Otherwise, no one would fall in love, and no one would want to start a family. Sometimes we have to take a risk for the good in this world and forget about the bad—even if it's for only a few moments or months or years. But does knowing this change anything about how I feel? I guess I will have to find out.

At the same time, I am overwhelmed by the wisdom of her words. When did my sister get so mature? She understands all this love stuff better than I ever have.

"Thanks, little duck." I smile and pull her in for a hug. Although I don't know much about love, I do know that I love her. Completely.


	5. Chapter 5: Friends

**Geez… Why does Katniss have to be so complicated?! Ha! It really is a challenge getting PK to fall in love—at least on Katniss' part. I hope you are enjoying the beginnings of this story! If so, PLEASE review and follow ;) Pretty please? Thanks for the support!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HG… at all… nada… zilch… zero…**

I am walking through the meadow. As I travel to the place where I know he will be waiting for me, I reach out my arms and allow the soft bristles of the surrounding grasses and the petals of the wildflowers to brush up against me. My heart seems light and fluttery in anticipation. Soon enough, I spot his blonde head, and I find him sitting on the very same rock where he confessed his love to me once before. He sees me too, so he stands up and smiles his sweet smile. I return the gesture with a smile of my own and approach him so that I can see his blue eyes. They are twinkling and full of love and life and light.

"Hey," he says gently.

"Hi," I reply. He reaches out to touch my cheek with a special softness that could only come from Peeta. After we spend a few moments in silence, waiting, I decide the distance between us is too great, so I pull myself toward him, hoping that he will hold me. He does. I am amazed at how perfectly I am able to fit into him. He threads his fingers through my hair as I listen to the rhythm of his heart beating. Then, suddenly, he pulls back a few inches and looks at me. I can see him taking it all in. Me. And him. Together. It's what he's wanted since kindergarten. I'm happy that he is happy.

His eyes are radiating love. I am not sure what to do. My heart is beating faster and faster and faster, and if something doesn't happen soon, I am sure that I will explode or faint or burn up. A moment later, his eyes drop to my lips, and I become very aware of the heat that is engulfing every part of me. He begins to inch closer. So do I. I realize that I might not have wanted this as _long_ as he has, but in this moment, I do want this as _much_ as he does. We are so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath and skin. I close my eyes in anticipation, and then—

"Katniss!" I hear a voice calling my name. "Katniss! Wake _up_! We are going to be _late_ if you don't hurry up!" I open my eyes to a blurry blonde girl shaking my shoulder. It takes me a few moments to adjust to the brightness of the room and my surroundings, and I realize I was only dreaming. I am at home. I overslept. Prim pries the covers off of me, and I shiver as the crisp morning breeze blows through the open window and meets my skin. We still have a few weeks before fall begins to take over completely, but the mornings and late evenings are slowly beginning to cool.

Since I didn't wake up in time to go hunting, I realize that I must have been really tired. With all this confusion stemming from Peeta and Gale and how they feel about me and with my own bewilderment as to how to react to their feelings, my mind has not had much rest. Not to mention the extremely realistic dreams I have had the last couple of nights. In most of these dreams, I am with Peeta in the meadow or the woods or at the lake where my father used to take me. But I always wake up before anything really intense happens. This is a good thing because I'm already confused enough as it is. The last thing I need is to wake up remembering kisses with Peeta. I'm not even sure how or why I'm having these dreams about him. I just try to forget. Every morning I wake up and push thoughts of him to the back of my head.

It never works, though. He always finds his way back to the front.

I sit up, yawn, stretch, and begin my morning routine with more speed than usual. Prim is already dressed and fed, and she stands impatiently at the door, tapping her foot, as I throw on my pants and a shirt and braid my hair to the side. I look at her, amused. She is always so punctual.

"Sorry, Prim. I don't know why I've been so tired," I explain.

I finish getting ready in great time. I must have broken some sort of personal record. I grab my stuff for school and a piece of Peeta's bread for breakfast and head out the door.

"Bye mom!" Prim waves to our mother as we cross to the street and begin our journey to the schoolhouse.

As soon as we are alone, Prim initiates the conversation.

"Katniss?" she inquires.

"Hmm?" I respond. Once again, my mind shifts from thoughts of the boy with the bread to the present. Why can't I just think normal thoughts like I used to? Thoughts about hunting and the Hob and providing food for my family.

"Is there something going on with you and Peeta?"

I'm stunned. Her words have suddenly caused an inexplicable panic to rise inside me. Is it that obvious that he likes me? Or is it something I've let slip that has given it away? "No!" I exclaim with a little too much force. "Why would you say that?! Really, Prim, I thought we already talked about this!"

"No. We talked about you and Gale. I'm asking about Peeta. And I was wondering about it for several reasons. First off, we keep getting all this fresh bread delivered to our doorstep every day; then, I sometimes hear you talk about him in your sleep, and I always see him watching you when we walk home from school."

"Oh." I feel heat rise to my cheeks. Crap. Now I'm blushing. Who the heck am I anymore? She says that she hears me talking about him in my sleep. What do I say about him? As my mind remembers some of my dreams of late, I can feel my face turning even redder.

I don't know what to say to Prim, so I just tell her. "I don't know. He told me he likes me a few days ago, but I told him I didn't feel the same." I leave out the part that he's liked me since we were five.

"But now you're not so sure, are you?" She raises her eyebrows along with the corners of her mouth, amused.

"No—I mean—yes—I mean—I don't know..." I sigh, defeated. I really don't know. If I was sure, I don't think I'd be dreaming and thinking about him so much. Things would be as they always were. Why does this boy have such a power over me after one day in the meadow?

"I think you know more than you think you do," she smiles, and we walk the rest of the way to school in silence. I'm grateful because I need to sort through all of this stuff. I need a plan.

When we make it to our destination, we split up and head to our different classrooms. Again, I am astounded by her wisdom.

As I walk in, I immediately search for Peeta and discover that he is already looking at me. I look away as soon as my gray eyes meet his blue ones, and I feel redness creep into my cheeks again as I find my seat a few desks away from him.

"Heya, Catnip!" I hear in a whispered tone from behind me. Gale.

"Hey." I whisper back, and turn to the front as Mrs. Aspen takes role.

"I missed you this morning. Is everything okay?" He continues. I'm sure he was worried about me because I rarely miss hunting in the mornings. He sometimes can't make it during the week because of his younger siblings, but I am usually always in the woods by sunrise.

"Yeah. I overslept on accident. That's all," I respond.

The lecture begins, and I find myself thinking of all the ways I could start up a conversation with Peeta. I could run into him or drop my books near him or I could hang back after class. But why should I? I already told him I don't like him back. Though, we do need to talk about this whole bread situation again, don't we? Yeah. That's it. I'll talk to him about the bread.

What about Gale? What if Prim was right and all the changes I've noticed are signs of his love for me? How can I express that we are just friends? Well, I guess I should just do what I've always done. I've always only seen him as a friend or a brother, so I shouldn't have to do anything differently. After all, if he does love me, that's his decision to take that risk.

The bell rings.

Dang it. I never decided how I was going to approach Peeta. Quickly, I make up my mind to hang back in the classroom and try to start up a conversation. Gale tells me goodbye; he has to go pick up his brothers and his sister from their classes just like I do with Prim. I fumble with my papers a bit longer than usual.

"Hey." I hear a voice coming from right behind me. I spin around and find Peeta Mellark standing there.

"Hi," I reply with a slight smile. I'm blushing again. He bends down to pick up my pencil—which had rolled off my desk as I gathered my things—and hands it to me.

"I wanted to ask you something," he begins sheepishly. "I—umm... I know that you explained your feelings to me the other day, and I understand and respect that, but I was—I've been thinking... I still would love to get to know you more as a friend. How would you feel about that?"

"Yes," I say, and I get frustrated by the eagerness that escapes in the tone of my voice as I speak. "I mean—I would like that."

"Really?" I watch as his eyes light up, and I can tell that a flicker of hope has settled in his heart. I don't know if realizing this makes me feel happy or scared or guilty or excited or amused or all of it combined.

"Yeah," I say.

"Well, then... maybe—only if you want—maybe I could walk with you and Prim after school sometimes?" When he asks this question, he seems to have a hard time keeping eye contact with me. I smile, bigger this time. His awkwardness is amusing.

"Sure. That sounds good to me. I usually meet her outside Mrs. Greenwood's class, and we go from there."

"I know," he says softly. "I've seen you." I remember what Prim said earlier: _I always see him watching you when we walk home from school._

"Oh. Well, you wanna come now? I'm sure she's waiting."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Let's go," I can tell he is excited and nervous, and it only causes another smile to turn up the corners of my mouth. I try not to think about Prim's reaction when she finds out that he's walking with us.

We turn down the hallway where Prim usually waits for me, and I spot her in the distance. I watch as her eyes shift from me to the blonde, anxious boy standing at my side. As we draw closer, a slight smile begins to appear on her little face. She knows something is going on.

Peeta is the first one to speak. "Hello, Primrose. I don't know if we have ever officially met before, but my name is—"

"Peeta. Peeta Mellark," Prim finishes for him. "I know who you are. I love your cakes. They are so beautiful. Oh, and I love your bread too. You're a really good baker."

At these words, I see the bashful side of the boy with the bread surface, "Thank you," he looks down at his feet as he says it. "I love doing it. It's kind of like an escape. I would paint if I could, but I don't have much time to spare, and I don't think my family could afford it."

"Wow. That's amazing. I wish I could paint. On cake or on paper," replies Prim with a hint of longing.

Smiling, I explain the situation, "Prim, Peeta is going to walk with us for a bit. Is that okay?"

"Sounds good to me! I would love to hear more about his cakes!" she says excitedly.

We begin our walk, out of the school and into the street.

Peeta continues the conversation with Prim, "Maybe I could teach you some time? To decorate cakes, I mean. You too, Katniss," his eyes meet mine, and my heart skips a beat.

Even in that brief moment, I recognize the look in his eyes. Hunger. Desire. Longing. I am reminded that his feelings and intentions haven't changed. He wants me. He wants to know me and love me and be with me, and since my life includes Prim, he intends to include and care for her as well.

Fear sweeps over me. What if this is all wrong? What if me getting to know him only hurts him more? After all, I'm not entirely sure what my feelings are right now.

When I try to interpret my own feelings, the only thing I can come up with is that it's like I'm wandering in the woods with a blindfold over my eyes. I have no weapon to defend myself. I am exposed. Vulnerable. But the newness of it all is absolutely thrilling.

I remember Prim's words about loving people and taking risks for the sake of good, and I decide that her words apply to friendships as well. Besides, that is what we are after all: friends.

"That sounds fun, but I don't think I'd be very good at art," I respond shyly.

"Sure you are. Everyone's good at art, in their own way," he says smiling.

"We'll see."

"How 'bout we find out this Saturday? I would invite you to the bakery, but it'll still be open, and I don't know if it's such a good idea..." he says this with a look of thoughtfulness and concern.

I remember that day several years ago. The dandelion day. The day he saved my life and gave me hope. On that day, he intentionally burned some bread so he could give it to me, and his own mother beat him for it. I agree with Peeta; going to the bakery would probably not be the best idea.

To keep him from sinking too deeply into thoughts about his abusive mother, I reply, "I can ask if we could do it at our house. We don't have much to work with but it's a meeting place at least."

"That's perfect," he says, grinning. "I'll bring everything we'll need."

We pass through town. The bakery comes into view, yet he keeps walking.

"Aren't you going to head home?" I ask.

"Well—if it's alright with you—I would like to walk you both home." I glance over at Prim and make eye contact; she smiles and nods encouragingly.

"That's fine."

We continue to the other side of town and into the Seam. We talk about baking and art and our plans for this coming Saturday, and finally, we reach the Everdeen household.

Prim says goodbye to Peeta, shocks him with a sweet hug, and heads inside the house. I can tell she's excited to decorate cakes this weekend. Then, I turn to say my farewells, but before I can leave, he grabs my hand to pull me away from the door, closer to him. I'm paralyzed. It's like my dream, except this is real. My heart is about to burst. Heat consumes me. I can't speak. Or move. Or breathe.

"Before you go, I wanted to give this to you personally," he says as he reaches into his bag and pulls out a brown, wrapped bundle of bread.

"Peeta," I object.

"Take it. I made it for you. It's always for you," he insists. His eyes are deep blue and there is a firmness in them that tells me I won't win this battle. So I take it.

"Thank you," I say. I meet his eyes and watch them travel over my face. It's like he's trying to memorize me. Immediately, I become aware of our closeness and the electric current rippling between our bodies. Afraid of myself and what I might do if we remain in this position, I take a step back, toward the door. "It was good talking to you, Peeta. Thank you for everything." I try to put all of my thankfulness in my eyes to communicate it to him better. Words aren't enough. He's done so much already. And I have a feeling he is never going to stop giving. I might as well stop keeping score. This is a war that I will never win.

With that, I turn to my door and enter my house. As I close the door, I watch him standing there through the narrowing crack between the doorframe and the edge of the door. Our gaze is not broken until there is no space left to see. When it clicks into place, I turn around, resting my back against the door, and exhale deeply.

Prim is sitting across the room grinning from ear to ear. I return the gesture. Suddenly, we both start giggling. I can't stop. I don't know what is happening to me, but it feels good. Really good.


	6. Chapter 6: Something Is Different

**'Ello friends!**

**Finally, I think we may have achieved something with PK… I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. I won't say anymore ;) **

**If you like this story, please take a few seconds to tell me what you think or ways of improving it by leaving a review.**

**Disclaimer: HG=not mine. **

Throughout the rest of the week, Peeta makes sure to find Prim and me after class, so he can walk with us to the Seam. Every walk ends with loaded words and a bundle of bread. We are slowly getting to know each other better. His favorite color is orange, like the sunset. He loves to draw and paint and decorate cakes. He is the youngest of three and loves to go on long walks when the weather permits. His favorite food is, of course, bread, but not just any bread—he loves the garlic cheesy bread from the bakery when it is fresh out of the oven. (One day, he brought a warm garlic and cheese bun for Prim and me to try, and after one bite, I am convinced that it has also become my favorite food as well.) I have noticed many things about Peeta on my own, too. He is really good at talking and explaining things and inspiring people to be the best that they can be. He is encouraging and patient, full of compassion and love. His eyes change color according to his mood; they are always blue, but they get darker or lighter as his disposition changes. I also think he is starting to love Prim like I do. He treats her so well.

Today is the day. Saturday. Baking day. I am a little anxious about making a complete fool of myself. I don't know the first thing about decorating cakes, but Peeta assures me that I will do great. He should be coming over with all the supplies any minute now. I asked my mother about it earlier this week, and she enthusiastically agreed that Peeta should come over. She is just as excited to learn cake decorating as we are.

_Knock, knock, knock._

He's here. Oh my gosh. This is really happening. Peeta is coming spend time in _my_ house with _my_ family. I feel my heart racing in my throat. Quickly, I glance one last time in the mirror to make sure I appear presentable, which is weird because I've never really cared before now. Then, I begin walking casually to the door to let Peeta inside, trying to contain my excitement. As soon as I open the door, I am greeted with sparkling, light blue eyes and a huge smile.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I laugh.

"What?" he asks, confused.

"It's nothing. I just was thinking about how we should make that our official trademark greeting. It's what we say every time we meet," I explain.

"Oh," he laughs. "Yeah, we should. I like it."

"Me too," I say, moving aside for him to come in.

At first, I am extremely nervous that he won't like my home, but then he tells me that it's perfect, and I relax. Prim and my mother greet him warmly, and they show him to the area of our tiny house which we use as a kitchen. It consists of a sink, a few pots, pans, and dishes, and a table. We don't really have an oven or a stove like most of the people in town do. Instead, we use the fireplace to cook and fry the small amounts of food we obtain.

He unloads his bag and empties the contents of his bag on the table: a small bag filled with a few mini cakes and cookies, several colors of frosting in plastic piping bags, and a couple of utensils to spread the frosting and cut the cakes. I watch as Prim's face lights up with delight.

"I brought enough for us to each practice with one cookie and one cake. Here," he says as he passes us our materials. "Now, for the cookie, you will want a frosting base, so pick a color and spread it on the top of the cookie; then, let it sit and harden before you pipe any decorations on it."

We all take turns with the frostings and put a base of icing on our cookies. I put green frosting on mine; Prim uses the yellow; my mother uses blue; and Peeta uses orange, of course. Afterwards, Peeta instructs us on how to frost the cakes. He said the icing is called buttercream, and it stiffens after it sits out in the air. We watch as he frosts his cake with ease and perfection. His hands have memorized the technique; he makes it look so easy that I am almost convinced I will be able to do it just like he does.

I don't.

While his icing was smooth and seamless, mine was lumpy and rough-looking. I sigh in frustration. Peeta notices and walks over to help me. He comes up behind me and places his hands on top of mine to show me how to do it. At first, his presence startles me, but a few moments later I relax and allow him to guide my hands. My body heats up again, blood rushes to my cheeks, and my heart beats rapidly, but I am at peace. There is just something so right about Peeta leading me, so I just let it happen. Then, he begins speaking instructions softly into my ear, "Easy, now," and "Don't lift the knife up or it'll leave lumps. Just use it to level the icing out. There, that's it."

I turn my head slightly to look at him, and I see that he is smiling proudly. I smile back. I'm enjoying this much more than I thought I would, and I'm not sure if it's because of the pastries or the pastry maker. After he finishes helping me, he moves on to assist Prim with the same patience and gentleness. My mother, on the other hand, has frosted her cookie and cake beautifully.

Once we finish the icing base on our cookies and cakes, he tries to teach us to make flowers and leaves out of frosting, using the piping bags, but mine turn out to be colorful blobs of icing. Prim does a little better; she has more of a natural talent for creative endeavors than I do. Once again, my mother completes hers successfully; hers, at least, resemble flowers.

My favorite part comes at the end: eating. We each pick either our cake or our cookie to eat now, and we save the other dessert for later. I choose to eat my cake first. Despite the irregular lumps of icing and my failed attempt at flower-making, it tastes amazing. I don't remember the last time I have tasted something so sweet and rich. Even Peeta seems pleasantly surprised at its goodness, which I find odd since he eats this kind of stuff all the time. Prim is in a state of total bliss. She has wanted to taste one of those decorated cakes from the bakery for years, and now, thanks to Peeta, she can.

"So, did I prove my point about being a horrible artist?" I ask, teasing.

"Well... maybe," he laughs. I give him a pretend scowl. "I'm joking! I'm joking! You are amazing! When can you start at the bakery?"

I laugh. "Your family wouldn't hire me if I was the last person left in District Twelve," I say jokingly. But I immediately wish I hadn't. Peeta's face changes from joyful to sad and concerned. I can tell he probably sees the truth behind the statement. Even if I was an incredible baker, his mother wouldn't let me near the kitchen or any other part of their home. She hates the Seam and its residents. And, ever since the Dandelion Day, I can't help but wonder if she harbors a special resentment toward me. Whenever I come into the bakery to trade, she glares at me and leaves the front—without so much as a word—to get someone else to trade with me. It's usually her husband, Mr. Mellark; he sometimes slips me an extra goody to apologize for his wife's ill manners. It doesn't bother me anymore, though. I'm used to it. People from town always look at people from the Seam as if we are filthy animals. That's only one of the many reasons why I am so bewildered by Peeta's love for me. He's never looked at me like I'm any less than him. Sometimes I think he actually believes I'm even more important than he is.

I give him a look to reassure him that it was only supposed to be a joke. He smiles a weak smile in response and redirects the conversation into safer waters:

"I've had a blast teaching all of you aspiring cake decorators, but I'm afraid I must head back to the bakery for my shift," he says sadly. "I hope we can do something like this again."

"Thank you, Peeta. You are always welcome here," my mother says softly.

"Yeah! Thanks, Peeta! This was the best Saturday ever!" Prim exclaims.

"Good," he laughs. "I am happy that I could be a part of it!" Then he turns to me, "Katniss, could I have a word with you before I leave?"

"Sure," I reply, wondering what he needs to talk to me about. We walk out to the front of the house, and he grabs my hand to lead me out of the earshot of passers-by.

"Did you like it?" he asks immediately.

"The cakes? Yeah, of course! Who wouldn't?"

"Good. I'm glad," he responds. I know this isn't really what he wants to talk about. When he sees the question in my eyes, he gets to the point: "I wanted to ask you if I could see you tomorrow sometime."

"Oh. Ummm..." I'm not sure what to say. Gale and I always go hunting together on Sundays. It's a tradition. Soon, the only time I will be able to see him will be on Sundays. When he turns 18, he will begin working in the mines. I try to block out thoughts of Gale working under thousands of pounds of rock. Instead, I focus on the present and decide to explain, "Well, Gale and I usually go hunting together on Sundays." I watch him deflate, and guilt drops into my stomach. Crap. I hate hurting Peeta.

"Oh. That's okay. I understand," he says with a look of defeat.

I know that it's probably been hard for him to watch the friendship between Gale and me grow over the years, especially if he's loved me since we were five. Regardless of Peeta's feelings for me, Gale is my best friend, and Peeta will have to learn to cope with that.

"Sorry, Peeta. Maybe we will see you at the bakery if we catch some good squirrels. If not, I'll see you at school," I say apologetically. I really am sorry. I wish he could come hunting with us, but somehow, I don't think Gale would like that very much. "Really, Peeta, I'm sorry. Today was amazing. Thank you. I can't remember the last time I've seen Prim so fascinated by something. Not to mention the deliciousness of it all!" I say lightly.

"You're welcome," he smiles. As he says it, he takes another step toward me. "You know it's all for you, don't you Katniss?" His eyes are searching mine, piercing and blue. I don't know what to say. I'm frozen. My eyes are locked on his. Heat is radiating between us.

Oh, crap. Oh, crap.

His eyes shift to my lips, just like in my dream. This is it. Oh my gosh. I hold my breath. I'm dreaming.

This can't be happening.

Right when I think I'm about to explode, his eyes find mine again. He takes a step back, and the tension dissipates. "I should head back before they start wondering where I am." He takes my hand again and gives it a light squeeze. "Bye, Katniss."

I allow myself to breathe and say, as evenly as possible, "Goodbye, Peeta. Thank you." At that, he turns away and begins his walk to the bakery. I find myself wishing that he never had to leave, that we could always be together. Those wishes scare me, so I try to push them back. It's Peeta. We are just friends.

_Yeah, friends that almost kissed_, I think.

What is happening to me?

-

Sunday went as usual. Gale and I met at our normal spot. We talked and hunted. He hasn't brought up the conversation about marriage and fleeing Twelve again. I'm glad.

The next morning, I wake up early to hunt yet again. Gale can't come today. It's pretty typical for him to skip hunting on weekdays; he has to help his siblings get ready for school when his mother, Hazelle, is busy elsewhere. Most of the time, if he can't make it, I drop off some of the game for his family to use for eating or trading.

I get dressed in my father's hunting jacket, a pair of pants, and my boots; then, I kiss Prim good morning, eat breakfast, and head out the door, sporting my empty game bag. As I make my way to the woods, I am overcome with the beauty of the day. The birds are chirping, the wind is blowing a soft breeze through the trees and the grass, and the weather is perfect: sunny with a few fluffy clouds dancing through the sky. I take a deep breath, trying to absorb the goodness of the day, and I can't help but smile.

I climb under the fence and grab my bow, feeling energized and ready to begin the morning hunt. First, I check the traps and load my bag with the kills. Then, I decide to gather some of the roots and berries which won't be around much longer come winter. I make my way to the strawberry patch and begin picking the ripe fruits.

CRACK.

I hear twigs snap loudly from somewhere behind me. Immediately, I stand up and turn around to face the noise, alert. Quietly, I string an arrow onto my bow and ready myself for the attack.

CRACK.

Whatever it is, it is coming closer. I don't have a visual, but I am prepared to shoot at any moment. Adrenaline is rushing through my body with every heartbeat. My eyes are scanning my surroundings, searching.

"Katniss?" I hear a familiar voice call out from behind one of the trees in front of me.

"Oh my _gosh_, Peeta! What the _heck_ do you think you're doing?! I could have killed you!" He steps out from behind a tree, and I lower my weapon.

"That's why I called your name before I jumped out from behind the tree," he laughs. "It would have been terribly stupid of me to surprise Katniss Everdeen, of all people, when she is prowling the woods."

"This is serious, Peeta!" The adrenaline is still pulsing through me, and I find myself angry at him for following me. "What are _you_ doing _here_?" I ask again.

"I saw you on your way to the woods this morning, and I was curious. But mostly I just wanted to see you again," he says, almost pleading for me to understand. I can tell that he genuinely missed me. I don't admit it out loud, but I missed him too.

"Oh, alright," I sigh. "Since you're here, you might as well make yourself useful. Go pick the ripe berries over there on the other side," I command, nodding in the direction of the strawberry patch opposite me.

His face lights up. "Okay! Happy to help." He walks over loudly, snapping every twig and crunching every leaf in his path. We are going to have to work on that. After a few moments of silence, he speaks up, "So, this is it, huh? These are the infamous woods where Katniss Everdeen hunts."

I smile. "Yep. Thrilling, isn't it?"

"Completely. I don't think I can handle it," he jokes.

"Well, you're gonna have to now. We have a long couple hours ahead of us," I say mischievously. I like having him here to talk and joke with.

"Really? You'll teach me?" he asks hopefully.

"Teach you?"

"To hunt," he clarifies.

"Oh." That's not exactly what I was thinking, but it makes sense. He tried to teach me to ice cakes; I should return the favor. "Sure. I can try."

His face explodes with excitement. He reminds me of Prim on Saturday as she learned to make flowers with frosting. I laugh at the thought.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing. I just never thought I would agree to teach Peeta Mellark how to hunt."

"Well, dreams really do come true," he teases, but then his face changes from joking to serious. "I never thought I would get to spend so much time with you." He looks at me, and I stop what I'm doing. I wonder what he is thinking. My mind flashes back to Saturday afternoon before he left for work. We were so close. His eyes were so full of love. They still are.

_He loves me_.

"First, we need to work on your hunter's walk," I change the subject back to hunting. "If you walk how you were earlier, you'll scare off every animal within a twenty mile radius."

"Is that right?" he laughs, raising his eyebrows in a mock-questioning sort of way.

"Yep," I answer, smiling. "So, first, you should always walk from toe-to-heel. That way you have better control over where you step, and you can lift your foot quickly if your step promises to be too noisy. Wait for a breeze or some other form of noise cover if you need to run or move fast. Let's practice."

I demonstrate my own techniques and watch as he tries to mimic me. Even after our practice session, he's still a pretty loud walker, but he has improved slightly. It'll have to be good enough for now. I don't expect immediate perfection; after all, it took me years to acquire the skills I have today. As for hunting, I don't expect to kill many animals today with Peeta as a hunting partnear, but I do plan on enjoying some time to get to know Peeta without Prim or Gale or my mother around.

Next, I try to teach him to shoot a bow. We pick a random tree with a knot in it, and I show him how to hold the bow and string the arrow. He does so with relative ease. After that, we practice hitting the target. He's not as good at that part… yet. His strength comes in handy, making it easier to manage the tension in the string of the bow, but it will take a while before he is consistently accurate. I can tell he has some natural talent, though.

"Not bad," I say, impressed with his last attempt at hitting the target; he only missed the tree by a couple of inches.

"You're just saying that," he says, disappointed.

"No, really! Most people can barely string the arrow. You are doing well! It just takes time and practice," I say encouragingly. At those words, I know how I am going to thank Peeta for all that he has done. He is going to be a hunter, and he is going to be an archer; I will teach him. I decide to start gathering materials for his bow this week. Without realizing what I am doing, I grin overtly.

"What's so funny?" Peeta wonders, watching my face.

"Oh—um…nothing," I say trying to cover up my mistake.

"You were smiling about something. What was it?" He smiles playfully as he lowers the arrow and walks toward me.

"Nothing. Even if I was thinking of something, I wouldn't tell you what it was," I say defiantly.

"No?" He takes another step closer. We are separated by only a couple of feet. "And why is that?"

Another step means we are a foot apart. His blonde hair has fallen into his face slightly, and I notice the glimmer of sweat which coats his skin as a result of our morning lessons. I am looking up into his deep blue eyes, which are full of love.

"I—uh—because I don't have to," I stutter. I don't really know what to say, and his close proximity isn't helping me focus. Part of me wants to tell him to stop, to back off, but more of me wants him to keep moving closer, to eliminate the space that is between us.

When he realizes I am not going to tell him what I was thinking, he abruptly changes the subject:

"Katniss, I know you told me that you don't feel the same way I do, but I think you realize now that something is different. My feelings haven't changed at all. As a matter of fact, they are probably growing stronger as time goes on, but I wanted to ask you once more, to give you a chance to change your mind and get rid of some of the confusion that is between us. I am saying all this because things have felt different lately, and I think you have felt it too," his eyes are searching mine, hoping that something has indeed changed in me. "If you still believe with all your heart that nothing can happen between us, then I won't ask you again, but if something has changed in your heart, please tell me."

I know he's right. Something has changed; I can't keep ignoring it. In this moment, I know I either have to take the risk and jump, believing that Peeta will catch me, or I have to turn away and figure out how to clear my heart of all of these feelings and thoughts and dreams.

Before I know what I am doing, I close the distance between us and tuck myself into his chest.

"Okay," I say softly.

"Okay?" he asks, unsure of what to do.

"Okay," I repeat, turning my head so I can see his face. "You're right. I don't know how to explain it, but you're right. Something is different. Whatever it is scares me to death, but it also makes me feel alive. I can't stop thinking about you, Peeta Mellark, and it's driving me crazy." I try to explain.

"Really?" His face is overcome with joy. Seeing him so happy makes me happy.

"Yes," I laugh. He joins in, and we just hold each other and laugh. After we settle down, he draws back a few inches to look at me.

Once again, I watch as his blue eyes find my lips, but this time they dart back to my eyes, asking me for permission. In that moment, I know exactly what I want.

"It's okay, Peeta," I encourage him.

He places his strong hands gently on my cheeks, which tingle under his touch, and then he pulls his face closer and closer to mine. At the last second, I close my eyes, like I did in the dream, but I know this time it's real. He is real.

When our lips finally meet, warmth overtakes me, and I am undone. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him even closer. We begin to move as one. One heartbeat. One breath. And when I feel like I am about to pass out from a lack of oxygen, I pull away and gulp in as much air as I can before finding his lips once again.

A few moments later, Peeta pulls away and looks into my eyes. I wish he wouldn't stop, that we could kiss forever, but then, I see the passion and the excitement in his eyes; he has waited for this moment for so long. His hand tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ears, and he whispers, "I love you, Katniss Everdeen. I've loved you for eleven years, and I will love you until I die." He seals his words with another kiss, but this time it is short and sweet and packed with emotion.

I want to cry. I feel it; I can feel his love exploding all over me with so much force that I'm afraid my legs will fail. All I can do is hold him and let him hold me. He is beautiful. And I am his.


	7. Chapter 7: Nothing to Hide

**!Hola, amigos!**

**Thanks for the few reviews so far! Please keep 'em comin'! ;) I would very much appreciate it. The next chapter or so (not sure how many chapters yet) is going to set the stage for some very important things to come. After working so hard to get PK lovey-dovey, I am finding these in-between chapters a tad more challenging. Never fear! Nothing is impossible!**

**Also, I wanted to make sure that I mention the fact that, at some parts in the story, I may use material from HG itself (e.g. chapter 4's Gale and Katniss marriage talk). That, along with some random, annoying grammar things that I've found, will hopefully be addressed when I have some free time to be super tedious. ;) **

**Disclaimer: HG is not my story ;)**

* * *

The next several days are marked by secret kisses and measured glances. Whenever I know Gale cannot meet me to hunt, I invite Peeta; I continue to teach him everything I know about hunting and surviving. He is doing well, better than I could have hoped. After only a few days of archery training, he is hitting the tree pretty consistently. It'll take some time for him to shoot the knot on the trunk, but I have faith that he will do it… soon.

Neither Peeta nor I have revealed our decision to be together to anyone. We both have reservations about exposing our relationship until we can explain ourselves to certain key individuals: Mrs. Mellark and Gale. We have decided to handle our person-of-concern on an independently. As a precaution against procrastination on either of our parts, we have agreed that, by the time school begins on Monday morning, the deed must be done. Today is Sunday. Today is also a hunting day with Gale. I have to tell him within the next twenty four hours. I hope he won't hate me forever.

Reluctantly, I make my way to the woods to meet Gale for our traditional Sunday morning breakfast at the usual place. I hope that my anxiety over the inevitable conversation-to-come doesn't show on my face as I greet him and take a seat next to him for breakfast.

"Catnip!" Gale responds warmly. "You ready for a fantastic day of hunting?! It's gonna to be a good day, I can tell!" His tone is a little too cheery for my liking. I can tell he is trying to cover something up that is on his mind as well. It doesn't bother me, though. I will figure it out soon enough; we know each other too well.

"Yeah! It'll be great!" I say sarcastically, so he recognizes that I know he's hiding something. I grab some food and begin eating, pleased with myself as I notice that Gale's too cheery mood has dissolved into a more familiar disposition. We eat in silence, which is fine with me; I don't want to provoke unwanted attention to the fact that I am about explode with a secret that may break my best friend's heart. I wish I could make both Gale and Peeta happy, but I can't. I've made my choice. I know what I want, but sometimes I wish it could be easier to have.

One thing I have been learning about this whole love thing: it is more than just taking that first risk (although the first risk can be the hardest one to take); instead, it requires risk after risk after risk. Every day I jump off another cliff for Peeta, but he is always there to hold my hand and jump right alongside me. Talking to Gale is a risk. I am risking our friendship so that I can love Peeta better. But no matter what happens, I know that Peeta and I will get through it together.

Finally, we leave the awkwardness of breakfast behind and begin the routine of checking the snares, setting them back up, shooting game, and gathering plants and nuts. As we are finishing out our relatively silent and uneventful day by picking berries and pulling roots, the knot in my throat is growing larger and larger. I decide that I cannot hold back any longer, so I begin the dreaded conversation before I change my mind:

"Gale?" I begin hesitantly.

"I know what you're gonna say, Katniss, and I am not trying to ignore it. I just needed time to think," he interrupts.

"Huh?" I ask, confused.

"You know something is up. I am planning to tell you; I just needed some time, is all," he tries to explain. It doesn't help. I'm still confused, and I think it shows on my face. He sighs dramatically, meets my eyes, and begins to clarify: "I've been meaning to tell you for several months now, but I didn't because I wanted you to catch up with me. Since that hasn't really been working, I figured I should just be honest with you. Katniss, I like you. A lot. You are my best friend, and you mean the world to me. I hope my actions lately haven't confused you. If they have, I'm sorry. I—I just wanted to see if you felt the same about me," he says, looking away from my eyes.

I gulp a huge bubble of air down my throat to suppress whatever crazy reaction is waiting to come out.

_Perfect timing, Gale_, I think to myself sarcastically.

After the silence becomes too painful, I find myself again and try to gently express the chaos within:

"Gale, I'm sorry… I just can't love you like you want me to," I say, disappointed that I couldn't think of a better explanation. The shock and sadness in his face tells me that my response is not good enough, so I try again: "Look, Gale, you are my best friend, and I hope that that never has to change. I _do_ love you, but I love you like I love Prim. You are like—like a brother to me. We have grown up together, and we know each other so well…I just can't give you anymore than that kind of love."

"But why? I don't understand. All those things you said seem like the perfect reasons for us to be together. We would be great together, Katniss. Can't you see that?" he says, pleading.

I continue, trying to make him understand: "Until a couple weeks ago, I was determined to _never_ love someone romantically. I was so afraid, Gale. I was afraid of getting hurt, and I was afraid of hurting the people I love. But then, Prim told me that sometimes we have to take a risk and believe in the good that's in this world rather than the bad, so I did."

"You _did_? What do you mean, you _did_, Katniss?" he asks, aggravated.

I can tell he is getting really frustrated with me, so I decide to just tell him.

"It's Peeta, Gale. I love Peeta," I say softly, refusing to make eye contact.

"_Mellark? _The baker's son?" he asks, unbelieving.

"Yes, _Gale_, the baker's son," I fire back, defensively.

"_How_? _Why_? I just can't _believe_ this!" Now, he is pacing back and forth, his fingers running through his hair. He is not handling this well.

"I don't know, Gale. I can't tell you _why_. All I know is it happened. I love him. He loves me… I'm really sorry." I realize now is not the time to tell Gale the entirety of Peeta's and my love story. Instead, I oversimplify the whole thing so that it is easier on Gale. If he will still be my friend after all of this, I know that he will learn all that he needs to when the time is right.

Gale picks up a rock and throws it, with all of his might, into the nearest tree. I've barely loved Peeta for a week, and I'm already hurting people. Why does it have to be so hard? I don't say anything else; there's nothing left for me to say. It's his turn, his decision.

After I watch him sink onto a fairly large rock and bury his head in his hands, I realize I can't do anything to help his current state, so I decide to leave him alone so he can think. I grab my game back and my bow and whisper, "I'm so sorry," one last time before I turn to head back home.

"Wait," he says right as I begin walking away. "Don't leave." He is looking at me now, and I can see the sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Katniss. This isn't your fault. I shouldn't be acting like this. If I would have just told you in the very beginning, maybe things would be different."

"No, Gale. You can't blame yourself. Who knows what could have been? That doesn't matter now. This is no one's fault. It just _happened_," I say with as much gentleness as I can muster.

"I guess I just don't understand," he says, still trying to fit all the pieces together. "He is from _town_. You are from the _Seam_. How does that happen? How does that even _work_?"

"I told you already. I don't know. It just did. And Peeta is different. He doesn't look down on the Seam like other people do," I explain.

"But he's never had to _survive_ like you and I have to. He doesn't hunt or worry about starving or _anything_."

"You would be surprised what he has gone through, Gale, and what he can do. I've been teaching him to shoot and hunt. He's really good, too. Maybe you should try to get to know him; then, maybe you wouldn't have such a hard time figuring out how I could possibly love someone like _him_." I say, defending Peeta. Thinking of what Peeta has gone through stirs thoughts of Mrs. Mellark. I do hope that she isn't hurting Peeta because of me.

"I don't mean it like that, Katniss. I just don't see how you have anything in common," he clarifies.

"We don't have to both be the same to love each other. Sometimes it is good to love someone who is different. That way you strengthen each other in times of weakness." I don't know where that came from, but apparently, being with Peeta is teaching my heart things I never understood before.

"Are you happy?" he asks suddenly, his eyes searching mine.

"Yes. Very."

"Well then I am happy for you," he says, smiling weakly. His heart is hurting, but at those words, I know that he has chosen to remain friends with me. I am forever grateful. But I also know that it will take time and space for him to heal. I don't know if our friendship will ever be how it was, but I will do everything in my power to help it.

"Thank you, Gale. It means the world to me that you would say that. You are the best friend a girl could have," I smile. I walk over to him, help him to his feet, and give him a hug.

* * *

The next morning, Gale stays home to help Hazelle with the kids, so Peeta joins me again in the woods. As soon as I see him, I run to him and almost knock him to the ground with the force of my embrace.

"Oh, Peeta! It was so _hard_," I say, as tears begin to pour down my cheeks. Annoyed with myself for crying, I tuck my head into his arm, so he can't see my face.

"Hey now, it's okay. It's over. We did it."

Despite my attempt at concealing my emotions, he finds my face with his hand and gently turns my head to face him. He kisses me softly on the forehead. I can tell that he hates seeing me upset. His eyes also show me that he is hurting as well. Guilt rises up inside of me. I've been so wrapped up in what has happened with me and Gale that I forgot Peeta had to confront his abusive mother. I scan his face, checking for cuts or bruises, and I relax when I don't find any.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly.

"I'm okay. I've been better, but it's okay. We don't have to hide anymore," he says, smiling slightly.

"What did she do to you, Peeta? What did she say?" I ask. I know Mrs. Mellark wouldn't let him off that easily.

"Nothing out-of-the-ordinary. She is refusing to give me my allowance until I break things off with you—which means never. And I'm pretty sure she hates me more than ever, now that I'm dating someone from the Seam—not to mention someone from the Seam who hunts illegally," he says, trying to brush it off.

"Oh, Peeta. I'm sorry," I apologize. "What is your allowance?" I ask out of curiosity.

"Well, every week or so, depending on how the bakery sells are going, my parents give my brothers and me a small allowance of baking materials, so we can make something fresh to eat or give away. Typically, we only eat the stale bread and pastries that no one buys, so it's kind of like a tiny payment for all the hours we put in at the bakery. Honestly, I think it was my dad's idea; my mom wouldn't care if we starved to death," he says, attempting a tone of indifference. "But," he continues, "I have been saving my allowance for a while now. That's how I have been giving you the bread all this time. So… I won't be able to deliver bread anymore." He looks down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Katniss."

I can't believe that, all this time, he has been sacrificing the only thing he could call his own for me. Once again, I am overwhelmed by Peeta's heart.

"Peeta, look at me," I say gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It's okay. We'll be okay." He nods, and I pull him in for a kiss.

"Now, let's do what we came here to do. Okay?" I say.

"Okay," he replies.

For the remainder of the morning, we clear the traps and gather plants. I try to shoot some more game, but Peeta's walk still poses a problem. He's getting better; he's just not quite there yet. So, after we finish shooting lessons, we spend a few more minutes in each other's arms before we have to leave the woods and face the long lectures about the glory of Panem.

When our time is up, I head home to pick up Prim, and Peeta follows me. We walk the path from the Seam to the schoolhouse as normal, but this time, we realize, there's nothing to hide. Peeta takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine, and I grin with satisfaction. My heart is happy.


	8. Chapter 8: Threats and Safety

**Hello again!**

**So, it's not quite time to blast off, but the tension is building, and the countdown begins. Slowly but surely we are making our way from unexpected love to flaming rebellion… Wahoo!**

**Ps) Sorry this chapter is so much shorter… the natural ending**

**Disclaimer: HG=not mine**

* * *

As we walk through town, hand in hand, I notice, once again, the many sets of eyes that drift from me to Peeta. I tense up. I hate it when people stare. Peeta squeezes my hand gently, reassuring me.

It's been almost a week now since Peeta, and I stopped trying to conceal our relationship from everyone, but I'm still not used to people staring at us as if we're aliens from another planet…or from another universe for that matter. I realize that it is a little strange to find someone from the Seam dating someone from town, but it's not _unheard of_. My mom and dad were from different parts of Twelve; my mom was from town but my dad was a native of the Seam, and their relationship worked out fine. They have both been productive members of society. My dad _did_ hunt illegally, but no one cared about that, just like no one cares that I hunt now; they like the meat we circulate throughout the district. I just don't see why it matters if two people from different parts of the district love each other. Love is love. What's the big deal?

"Okay. Wait here. It should only take a couple of minutes," says Peeta as he leaves me on the front steps of the bakery while he runs in to grab a blanket and some stale bread for our picnic in the Meadow. Ever since his mother took his allowance, we haven't been able to enjoy fresh bread. It's okay with me, though. Stale bread is better than no bread.

I smile at him in understanding as he rushes inside. I decide to sit on the steps as I wait for him. People are still staring at me. Annoyed, I find a lone stick on the ground and begin to draw pictures in the dirt to distract myself. A few seconds later, I hear the door to the bakery open. Peeta must have been sprinting through his house for him to be done so quickly. I turn around, ready to make my way to the Meadow with him, but then I realize that it isn't Peeta who came out of the bakery.

"What are _you _doing here? You don't belong here, girl." It's Mrs. Mellark. I take a couple steps back as she begins to inch closer to me. I can see the wrinkles around her eyes in mouth due to excessive frowning, evidence that she really must be one of the meanest people around.

"Sorry. I—um—I was just waiting for Peeta, is all," I say, but I immediately regret it. Peeta's name must have sparked some sort of trigger because her eyes and face narrow dangerously as she comes even closer.

"What did you say, girl?" she asks threateningly.

"Nothing. I—"

"Exactly. Nothing. That's what you are. So, you listen to me, and you listen well. You are to stop seeing my boy, ya hear?" she growls.

Confusion is replaced by anger at this woman who has hurt Peeta in more ways than I will probably ever know.

"What?! You can't tell me what to do! Neither are you involved in decisions which involve me and Peeta! You lost those rights when you decided to treat him like dirt rather than your own child!"

Suddenly, she pins me against the brick wall of the bakery, fuming. I realize that all of the people that were staring only a few minutes ago seem to now be oblivious to my current predicament. She digs her fingers into my shoulder and raises her voice.

"How _dare_ you talk to me like that, you filthy scum!" She draws closer to lower her voice to a harsh whisper. Her breath smells sour. "I'm warning you, girl; if you don't stop seeing my son, I will turn you over to the Peacekeepers for illegal activity. Oh yes, I know about your little _adventures_ in the woods, and it would be too easy for me to prove your insubordination. I will make your life a living nightmare," she finishes. At that, she turns on her heel and storms away.

As soon as I hear the door to the bakery clang shut once more, I find myself shocked and paralyzed against the same wall to which I was pinned only a few seconds ago. My mind is rushing with the words of her threat... She wants me to stop seeing Peeta, or she'll turn me in. What would happen to me? To Peeta? I think about this for a few moments and realize her threat has no weight. I trade with Peacekeepers. If they take me in, it'll mean risking their own necks.

She's has nothing on me. At this realization, I take a deep breath and allow myself to relax. It's okay. We're okay.

Suddenly, the door opens again. I spin around expecting that evil woman to come back for more, but it's just Peeta.

"Katniss, are you okay?" He asks, concerned. He must have noticed my defensive reaction.

"Oh. Peeta. It's you. You scared me. I zoned out for a second is all," I say to cover up my response to his arrival.

"Oh. Sorry. It took me a little longer than I expected. The blanket was on the line out back rather than on the shelf in the family room, and I was trying to steer clear of my mother. Luckily, I didn't run into her," he adds. I find his last words almost ironic.

"Yeah. Good thing," I reply. I have no intentions of revealing my encounter with Mrs. Mellark to Peeta. Instead, I smile, as if I wasn't just threatened by his mother, take his hand, and we make our way to the Meadow.

When we get there, Peeta lays the blanket over the grass and the layer of fall's crispy, brown leaves. Then, he begins to look at me in a way that I'm beginning to recognize; it's a look that tells me he loves me and that he delights in being with me. It's like a fire ignites in his eyes, flames of love. When he looks at me like this, I forget everything. I forget about Mrs. Mellark and Gale and the Games and my dad and...everything. I'm consumed by him.

He sits down next to the basket of food, and I step closer to sit as close to him as I can manage, so I can nuzzle my head into him. I love the way I feel when I'm with him. I place a soft kiss near his collar bone, and he lifts my chin to do the same—except he keeps going. A trail of Peeta's sweet kisses travels up my neck to my cheek; he stops and looks at me lovingly before planting his lips on mine. I let myself unwind in his love and embrace. I'm safe here.

After a few minutes, we reluctantly decide to begin our picnic of the meager assortment of food we compiled. In about an hour or two, the temperature will drop significantly, and we'll have to go inside.

It's moments like these that I wish I could live in forever, but no matter how much I wish it, I know it can't happen. The world keeps spinning, and the clock keeps ticking. For some reason, I can't shake the feeling that things are going to change. I cram those thoughts as far back in my mind as I can and bring myself back to the present, to Peeta and his love.

I smile as I think about the bow and arrows I'm making him. The other day in the woods, I found the perfect wood to begin carving the bow, durable yet flexible. He is doing so well. I am determined to make him the best archer he can be. His walk is getting better and better every day we go into the woods. He is amazing in every way. Each day I realize this truth more and more. There is no one like Peeta Mellark.


	9. Chapter 9: Christmas Surprises

**Hello!**

**So, I'm pretty sure that, after this chapter, things really begin to pick up…. BE EXCITED!... or maybe slightly depressed… depends on how you take the intensity… Either way, things are about to pick up, and you'll get a little glimpse of it in this chapter. YAY! **

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Autumn fades into winter, and winter brings freezing temperatures and an abundance of snow. In town, the wealthier families have their houses decorated with Christmas wreaths and little lights which remind me of motionless lightening bugs. I always think District Twelve looks so different at this time of the year. The snow makes everything look the same. From the houses of town to the shacks of the Seam, everything is a blanket of white. Personally, I miss the green of the woods, but I do love the Christmas holiday. Everyone seems slightly more cheerful than normal… only slightly.

Over the past couple of months, I have successfully completed Peeta's bow, quiver, and a few arrows. The anticipation for him to finally see it has been building in me ever since the bow began taking shape several weeks ago. He is ready for his own bow; his arrows hit the target pretty consistently. We actually _hunt_ together for real now. His walk doesn't scare all the animals away anymore. As soon as I finished with his bow, I decided that I would give it to him as a Christmas gift. Since both of our families celebrate Christmas on December twenty-fifth, we decide to have our own celebration in the woods on Christmas Eve.

Today is the day: December twenty-forth.

Instead of meeting in the bitter cold of morning, we decide to meet up in the afternoon, when the warmth of the sun is more noticeable. I have his bow hidden in the woods already, so all I have to do is grab some of the dried fruit and nuts we have stashed away for winter meals, stuff them in my game bag, and wait for Peeta.

I told him to meet me at my house, so I'm not surprised when I hear knocking at the front door. I run to grab and old towel and my game bag and rush to the door eagerly. When I open it, Prim and my mother greet him warmly before I rush him outside. I am beyond excited to reveal my gifts to Peeta. He deserves both of them, completely.

"Wow! Someone's excited!" Peeta laughs as I slam the door behind me and pull him away from it.

"You've got that right! Now shut up and turn around!" I command.

"What's all this about?" he asks curiously.

"Don't worry about it. Just do what I say!" I say impatiently.

Realizing that I will not cave and tell him, Peeta finally gives in and turns around. I lift the towel to his eyes and tie a knot on the back of his head.

"A blindfold? Really, Katniss?"

"Really," I reply.

When I finish tying the blindfold, I allow my hands to wander across his back before I hug him from behind. He laughs again.

"So is this my present?" he asks jokingly. He turns toward me and waves his hand around till he finds my face; then, he tries to find my lips, but instead, he kisses my nose. I laugh heartily.

I realize I could've waited to blind fold him until we got into the woods, but the entertainment brought on by a blinded Peeta won out in the end.

"Do you trust me?" I whisper, as I lean into him and let my lips barely brush over his.

He kisses me softly and replies, "Completely."

At those words, I grab his hand and begin the slow trek to the fence. I try to warn him about rocks and uneven places in the ground as we walk, but he still stumbles a couple of times, so I laugh. He does too.

When we reach the fence, I crawl under first and begin to instruct him step by step as he maneuvers through the metal wires. His efforts to shimmy through blindly cause me to explode with laughter. By the time he makes it over, I'm curled over in a ball, laughing so hard that tears are pooling in my eyes.

"Well, I'm glad you find my discomfort amusing," he teases with a smile.

When I finally regain my composure, I grab my bow from the hollowed out tree along with his, throw them both over my shoulder, and take off into the woods with his hand in mine.

Before we reach our normal hunting grounds, I decide to give him part one of his gift, so he has time to enjoy it before I show him gift number two.

"Wait here," I say as I walk over to a tree stump to assemble his gift. I place the bow on top of the stump and lean the quiver full of arrows up against it. Then, I approach him once more and tease him by walking my fingers all over his chest before reaching to untie the knot. As I pull the blindfold away, I kiss him again, deeply. After we are both breathless, I pull away from him and step aside so he can see his new hunting weapon.

It takes him several seconds to figure out what he's looking for, but he finds it soon enough. I know when he finds it by the excited gasp that escapes him as soon as his eyes settle upon it.

"Katniss..." he breathes. "I can't believe you did this." He walks over to admire it. I watch as he examines the bow and runs his hands across the smooth wood that took me so long to sand to perfection. He throws the quiver across his back, grabs an arrow, places it on the string, pulls the string back with ease, and releases it. The arrow reaches its mark and hits a knot in a nearby tree. I explode with pride at my work. The bow is the perfect size for him; it suits him wonderfully.

He retrieves the arrow, stashes it with the rest of them which are resting on his back, and he walks back towards me.

"Katniss... I don't know what to say. Thank you so much. This is amazing. You are most _definitely_ an artist," he says softly.

I am blushing and beaming and so in love.

"It was nothing. Really. You deserve it! You're getting so good at shooting; you need your own bow."

"Thank you, love. You are perfect," he kisses me again. Any time we spend time together alone-especially in the woods-there is never a shortage in kissing. Many times, it's the best way I can express the mix of overwhelming emotions inside of me. I'm not good at talking. That's Peeta's area of expertise.

"Now it's my turn," he says as he stashes his bow behind him and reaches in his pocket. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

I give him a suspicious look. He knows I don't like surprises.

"Katniss, trust me. Just do it. You made me walk all the way here with a blindfold!" he teases.

"But that was funny," I say.

"Ha-ha. You just wait till next time..." he threatens. "But now it's my turn, so close your eyes and hold out your hand."

"Fine!" I give in. A few seconds later I feel something cool and small settle into my open hand.

"Okay. Now you can open them."

I look down and see a beautiful golden pin of a bird. It takes me only a second to recognize the bird as a mockingjay. Immediately, my mind is flooded with memories of my father.

"I was visiting the Hob, and I found this. It reminded me of you and your dad and how the mockingjays always stop to listen when you sing," he explains sheepishly. "I hope you like it."

Trying to hold back the tears that are building in the corners of my eyes, I reply, "Peeta... It's perfect." I take the pin and fasten it to my hunting jacket. Then, I grab his hand and kiss it gently. He smiles.

I really do love his gift. More than he probably knows. The pin reminds me of my father in so many ways: it reminds me of singing songs with him and the freedom I always felt when I was with him in the woods and our swimming days in the lake. Those were the times I felt most alive. To me, the mockingjay represents life.

"I have one more thing for you," Peeta says.

He pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me. It's a drawing. He drew a picture of us together in the meadow. We are lying on a blanket, laughing, and I am admiring a small wildflower. A dandelion. I wonder if Peeta knows how much dandelions mean to me.

On the back, he wrote me a note:

_Katniss Everdeen, _

_You are my dream-come-true. I never thought that I would get the chance to be with you, to express my love for you, but fortunately, I was wrong. You are my light and my song. Sometimes I can't even look at you because I'm afraid my heart will explode with all the things you make me feel. I will love you forever. I am yours and you are mine. _

_Always,  
Peeta Mellark_

Now I really _am_ crying. Tears are falling down, one after another. Peeta rushes over to embrace and comfort me.

"Are you okay?" he asks worriedly. He thinks that his gift has upset me.

"Yeah..." I sniff. "I'm okay. It's—it's just that no one has ever said those things about me. And—and the dandelion," _sniff_, "and the mockingjay… It's just so—so perfect, Peeta." I nuzzle myself into his chest. "I love you, Peeta Mellark. I love you so much."

"I love you forever, Katniss Everdeen," he says as he plants a sweet kiss on my head.

After a few more moments, I manage to collect myself once more. I look up at Peeta and see a smile of reassurance, so I grab my things and begin to lead Peeta to the place where his second gift is waiting.

"Now where are we going?" he asks.

"You'll see. You're not the only one with two surprises, you know," I reply.

It takes us quite some time to make the hike to our destination, but when the trees begin to clear and I notice the slight glimmer of sunlight reflecting off of the surface of the frozen water, I turn to watch Peeta's reaction. His mouth drops in amazement.

"Woah, Katniss! This is incredible! How did you find this place?"

"My dad used to take me here to swim and gather plants when I was younger. This is where I always felt free and alive. It's my favorite place. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I think I can hear him singing to me," I say, looking down.

"Thank you," Peeta whispers, after a few moments of silence. "Thank you for trusting me with this place."

I smile in response. We both return our gaze to the lake. As I am admiring the snow-covered beauty surrounding me, the cement house draws my attention. I notice smoke billowing from the chimney. I look closer and see footprints leading into and out of the building.

Oh, no.

We are not alone.

As soon as I come to this realization, I see the white uniform of a Peacekeeper exit the house with a gun raised, pointed at us.

Cautiously, Peeta and I draw back our arrows on our bows, ready for the confrontation ahead. Then, we hear the click of a weapon behind us. It's over. We lower our bows and slowly turn to face our captor.

We are trapped.

I make eye contact with Peeta, and I can tell he is worried. Images of torture and cut-out tongues and imprisonment flash through my mind. I definitely didn't plan for this. I consider our chances at shooting the two Peacekeepers, but the odds are _not_ in our favor. Although Peeta is doing better, I don't know how he reacts under this kind of pressure—not to mention the fact that the two visitors have automatic weapons locked and loaded with us in their sights.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" demands the Peacekeeper behind us. I notice that the voice is that of a female.

"I could ask you the same question. What are a couple of Peacekeepers doing in a freezing shack in the middle of the woods?" I respond firmly. They need to know that we aren't going to play along with their little games. I'm sick and tired of games.

I watch as the two Peacekeepers communicate some hidden message with their eyes. The one in front of us nods to the one behind us and they both lower their weapons simultaneously.

"We aren't Peacekeepers," she says with a long sigh.

I'm confused.

"What? I don't understand," I say.

"We ran away from District 8. We took the uniforms from a factory, and we are on our way to District 13," the one behind us says.

I do a quick inventory of their appearances to see if I can find any evidence to prove their story, and I realized the uniforms on both of them are relatively oversized—especially that of the person ahead of us, who—I notice—is propped up on a crutch. I don't know what to make of the District 13 comment, but I realize that if they are telling the truth, we will have time for discussion later.

"My name is Bonnie," says another female voice, the one belonging to the cripple.

"And I'm Twill," says the woman behind us. She must be several years older than the other girl. I wonder how they ended up together. I am overcome with the need to understand. Why did they flee Eight? How did they steal uniforms? What is their story? District _13_?

"I'm Peeta and this is Katniss. We are from Twelve," says Peeta, taking advantage of my silence.

"Why don't you two come inside? We have a fire going. We can talk in there where it's warm," says Twill.

I look at Peeta, and he gives me a cautious nod, so we follow Bonnie and Twill into the cement house. I still don't trust them fully, but my mind is still swimming with questions, and by the look on Peeta's face, I can tell he is just as intrigued. We decide to give them the benefit of the doubt.

As soon as we cross the threshold, I find myself steeped in the scent of pine needles. I search for the source of the smell, and pick out a metal can sitting in the fire stuffed with pine needles and boiling water.

"What are you making?" I ask.

"Tea. Or something like it. I remembered seeing someone do it in the Games a few years back," explains Twill.

I realize that they have come a long way from District 8. I wonder if this concoction has been one of their main sources of nourishment. Then, I remember the food I stuffed in my game bag for my and Peeta's picnic, which would have been occurring now if it wasn't for our mysterious guests.

"Here," I say, as I reach into my game back and hand them the dried fruit I grabbed from home earlier.

"Take this too," says Peeta, handing them a piece of stale bread each.

"Are you sure?" Bonnie asks incredulously.

"Very. You have come a long way from home," replies Peeta.

"Thank you," says Twill. We give them a few moments to eat before my curiosity takes over.

"So, why did you leave Eight?" I ask.

Twill answers after she washes down a bite of bread with pine needle water, "For the last several weeks the Capitol has drastically increased the security in our district. We don't know why, but our whole district has been growing more and more antsy. The Peacekeepers seem even more brutal and violent than normal. They are beating and hanging people publically for the smallest crimes, all in the name of justice… My husband was killed for stealing food so we could have something to eat. And Bonnie's family was taken to the Capitol for their punishment after the Peacekeepers discovered a few stolen items in their home. She was one of my students, so after we lost our families, we paired up and began planning an escape. After school we work in a textile factory that specializes in Peacekeeper uniforms, so we collected bits and pieces of the uniforms over time. We couldn't be picky, so some of the pieces are a bit big, but it's the best we could do. Then, when we got a chance, we disguised ourselves, stole the weapons, and fled into the woods."

"I'm sorry about your families," says Peeta sympathetically.

"What about Disctrict 13? You said you are going there, but why? There is nothing left of Thirteen," I continue abruptly, not wanting to focus on missing loved ones any longer than necessary.

"There wasn't anything left 75 years ago, but we believe there were survivors who have rebuilt Thirteen," explains Bonnie.

"That doesn't make any sense. What would make you think that?" I ask, unbelieving.

"We've heard rumors. But mainly, we noticed that the footage the Capitol always shows of Thirteen is repeat footage that they edit over. You'll see it. Next time, watch the top of the screen. You'll see a mockingjay fly up in the right-hand corner. It's always the same one. Why do you think they always show the Justice Building? It's the only footage they have, and that was from back when they bombed the District at the end of the Dark Days. We think the Captiol leaves them alone because, before, their industry was nuclear development, and obviously, they don't want a nuclear war," continues Twill.

Peeta and I both exchange looks that reveal our reluctance to believe such a claim without seeing for ourselves.

"I guess we will have to pay more attention next time, huh?" I say as I turn back to face Bonnie and Twill.

"Yeah, and you will see it. We aren't crazy. Just wait… You'll see," she says.

I can't help but recognize their eagerness to explain their theories about District 13. It's their only hope. They don't have another option. For them, it's Thirteen or death at this point.

I realize their ability to obtain food is vital to their survival, so Peeta and I take them out and teach them the basics of hunting, how to build some simple snares, how to skin and clean game, and how to make a fire. Then, I take off one of my socks for Bonnie to stuff in her boot, so its overlarge size won't aggravate her twisted ankle.

They ask Peeta and me about news from our district, and are surprised to learn that we have not been bombarded with Peacekeepers. After several minutes of thanks and farewells, Peeta and I head home, eager to get back while it's still light out. Our conversation is consumed with talk of the mysteries of two districts which are not our own: District 8 and District 13.


	10. Chapter 10: Trapped

**Happy Fall!**

**I have been enjoying lovely weather here, deep in the heart of Texas… our campus is enjoying Fall Break, so I have a little more time to relax, read/write, and drink chai lattes. ;) This chapter is where the action begins (dun, dun, dun, dunnnn…)! Be excited!**

**Please review with comments/questions/constructive criticism/encouragement/etc. THANKS!**

**Disclaimer: HG=not mine**

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About a month after our surprise visit from Bonnie and Twill, Peeta and I are walking through town after a long morning hunt when we begin to notice the abundance of white uniforms surrounding us. Everywhere we look, there are Peacekeepers. I turn to see what Peeta makes of all this, and I can tell by the furrow in his brow that he does not like it at all.

"It seems that Bonnie and Twill must've been telling the truth about Eight," whispers Peeta as we continue walking along. "The Capitol must be slowly dispersing Peacekeepers all across Panem. I guess it just took them longer to reach us since we are farther away."

"Yeah, but why? What's all the fuss about?" I wonder.

An increase in security from the Capitol is never a good sign. It simply means that they have a _need_ to impose more oppression and control on the districts. Something is about to happen, and it doesn't look good.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough. Let's just hope it's not as bad as Bonnie and Twill said," he replies.

We decide to finish delivering our goods from this morning separately. That way it won't take us as long, and we can get rid of all the incriminating evidence in our game bags before some novice Peacekeeper, who doesn't know how things run around here, tries to turn us in.

"Be careful," Peeta says as he plants a kiss on my forehead before heading to drop off some goods at the mayor's house.

I head off toward the opposite side of town to drop off some game at Cray's house; he's the head Peacekeeper of Twelve, but he is a faithful trader. Even with all the new Peacekeepers, Cray will still want his meat for the week. Cautiously, I approach the front door and knock three times while simultaneously unzipping my game bag so as to quickly transport the game from the bag to the crack in the door unseen. A few moments later, I hear the lock being clicked loose on the other side of the door. As soon as the crack forms, I lift the squirrels from the bag and slide them through the door.

"Here's your meat for the week," I say in a lowered voice, but in that moment, I realize that I have made a huge mistake. The man at the door is most definitely not Cray. This man has gray hair and cruel dark eyes.

"What's this about?" he growls.

I don't know what to say or do. I'm frozen. Where is Cray? Who is this man?

"Where'd ya get these squirrels, huh?" He begins to understand the situation, and I watch as a twisted smirk forms at his lips.

"I—I found them running around the Seam and caught them for Cray. Where's Cray?" I ask, trying to keep the fear from affecting my voice.

"You won't be seeing Cray around these parts anymore, Miss. I'm the new head Peacekeeper here. The name's Romulus, Romulus Thread," he says with an evil grin that is even worse than his previous smirk. "You got anything else hiding in your bag there? You know, it's illegal to kill animals for food no matter where you find it," he explains, enjoying my predicament.

"It's just a couple of pesky squirrels. I'm sure no one will miss them," I reply stubbornly. If he's going to play dirty, I'm not going to give in so easily. "And no, to answer your question, I don't have anything else hiding in my bag, just some things I purchased in town today."

I am lucky that we hadn't caught much today; otherwise, I have a feeling I would be in a much worse position. I can only pray that Peeta is having an easier time than I am.

"I see. Well, to tell ya the truth, I've been expecting you to drop by, but I had no idea it would be so soon," Thread says as he looks me up and down. At first, I don't know what to make of his comment, but a few seconds later, it hits me. _Mrs. Mellark._ "You're gonna have to come with me, Miss," he says, clearly amused, as he grabs my arm below the shoulder and begins hauling me to the center of town.

"Hey! What are you—let _go _of me!" I exclaim.

I don't know what to do. I begin to consider my options: I could try to overpower him, but it is unlikely that I will succeed; I could call for Peeta, but who knows what he would do in this situation—probably something crazy; I could…

I could…

I am out of ideas. I don't have another option. Immediately, I begin to think of Avoxes and how Bonnie's family was taken to the Capitol for their punishment. At this thought, I begin to make things a little more difficult for Thread. I try to break my arm from his grip.

Maybe I can survive this.

I can run and grab Peeta and Gale and Prim and my mother, and we can escape into the woods.

Maybe District 13 does exist after all.

I begin to recognize these thoughts for what they are: false hope. I am not going to escape. Just like a tribute in the Hunger Games, I am at the will of the Capitol, and I _hate_ it.

"You better settle down," he says with a sickening laugh. "You're only making things harder on yourself."

He has a point, but still, I don't want to make this too easy. He needs to know that I hate him and everything he stands for, so before I stop struggling, I turn, look him in the eyes, and spit right at him.

He doesn't like that at all.

"That does it!" he growls angrily. His grip tightens painfully on my arm, and I let out a small yelp of pain as he rushes me forward.

As we approach the center of town, I notice a few new features: a gallows, wooden stocks, and a whipping post. Bile rises in my throat, but I manage to push it back down. I don't like any of the options before me, but I soon learn that I don't have much of a say in the matter.

Thread pulls out his radio and calls several other Peacekeepers to the town center for a hearing. I recognize a few of the faces looking back at me, but most of them are new. Most of them have no idea who I am.

"This young lady here thought it would be a good idea to hunt animals in the Seam. I caught her red-handed. Here's the evidence," he says as he throws my game bag and the squirrels on the ground in front of me. "Not only that, but she refused to come peacefully and then disrespected me by spitting in my face," He grabs my face and forces me to turn toward him. "Didn't you, _dear_?" he asks viciously. I don't answer him; instead, I glare at him, trying to express the loathing I feel for him in my eyes. "I'll ask you again. _Didn't _you? Answer me! 'Yes' or 'no'?"

"_Yes_," I say quietly through gritted teeth.

"What's that darlin'? I don't think they heard you," he says in a mock-innocent voice.

"_Yes!_" I say again, louder this time.

"That's better," he says as he releases my face to await my verdict. "So, clearly, this girl—what's your name, honey?" he asks quickly, interrupting his previous statement.

"Katniss Everdeen," I say, still clenching my teeth.

"Clearly, Miss Everdeen here has broken the law and is in need of punishment. Are we in agreement?" he asks, searching the crowd of Peacekeepers before him.

"Aye!" I hear coming from every direction.

"Alrighty then, let's see how she likes a little whippin'," Thread says, relishing every moment of my humiliation. "39 lashes should do the trick."

He pulls my hunting jacket off and throws it on the ground next to my game bag and the dead squirrels. Then, he drags me over to the wooden post and binds both of my hands together so tightly that even the slightest movement is painful. Next thing I know, he pushes my braid over my shoulder and rips the back of my shirt open so that my bare skin is visible and easier to puncture. Before he leaves, he leans in close to my ear—his closeness makes my stomach turn—and he whispers, "I bet you wish you were a little nicer to Ol' Thread now, huh? Well, we'll see how you feel by the end of all this."

I look around and notice that a crowd has gathered in the distance. I'm sure they are just as confused about this new change in security as I am, but at least they aren't tied to a whipping post about to get the living daylights beat out of them by Thread. I can only hope Peeta doesn't realize what's going on. He should be finishing up any minute now.

"You ready, darlin'?" Thread asks mockingly.

In a moment of pure defiance, I reply, "Bring it on." I immediately regret it, though.

The first lash brings me to my knees. I cry out in pain, but attempt to stifle my cry before it reaches its peak. I don't want to give Thread any satisfaction. The second and third and fourth lashes bring flashes of light across my vision as well as tears to my eyes. I don't think I will make it to 39. Thread is putting every ounce of strength behind each blow, and by lash number 12, I'm pretty sure that I will pass out at any moment…

15. My hands are shaking violently, and I feel like I'm about to throw up from the pain.

16. All of my weight is resting on the wooden post before me, and I realize the warmth trickling down my back is blood.

17. My vision is fading to black, and the world around me is fuzzy and distant.

"Stop! STOP!" I am able to decipher a familiar voice shouting from somewhere behind me, but I don't have the strength to turn around. It doesn't matter, though. I know that voice. It's Peeta.

"Stop! What's going on here?!" he yells.

"Shut up and clear out, boy, or you'll be gettin' the same treatment!" Thread yells back.

"Wait! Please! _Please!_ Let me take her punishment! Just leave her alone!" he says.

_No, Peeta, _I think to myself. _Go home._

"There'll be no exchanging of punishment here, boy. She broke the law, so she's gonna pay the consequences. Now, back _off!_"

18. The contents of my stomach—which isn't much—are released onto the ground in front of me.

"_NO! _You have to stop this! Stop, _now!_" Peeta cries. I can hear the emotion in his voice. He is about to break. The last thing I need is for Peeta to end up in this same predicament.

"Ahhhh, I see. You like Miss Everdeen, eh? Well, you best make yourself comfortable cuz we're just gettin' to the good part," say Thread.

A rush of stomping feet and muffled cries reach my ears, and I realize that they have Peeta bound, and from the immediate silence that ensues, I guess that they have him gagged as well. A deep ache settles in my heart as I realize that he will not be able to leave. He will have to stay for the whole thing. Tears begin to fall.

19. I cannot hold myself up any longer. I think of Peeta. I try to comfort him with my thoughts.

_It's okay._

_I love you._

_Be strong._

20.

_Hold on._

_I love you._

21. The world is drifting farther away.

22. I can't feel anything. My body is numb.

23. I can't see anything.

24, 25, 26. I'm almost there. Only a few more and this will all be over.

_I love you._

27. I'm so tired.

28, 29, 30.

_It's okay; it's almost over._

31.

...

* * *

I wake up shaking violently. It takes my brain several seconds to register the reason that my hands are shaking, but once it clicks, the pain sears relentlessly through my body, provoking the juices in my stomach to rush out of me. After several moments of blinding pain and uncontrollable retching, I register a voice speaking to me.

"It's okay, Katniss. I'm about to put a snow coat on your back. It's going to help with the pain," my mother says soothingly.

A moment or two later, I let out a sigh of relief as the medicated snow coat is spread across my back. The effects are almost immediate. The pain subsides, and my senses seem to be able to function more affectively. I begin to piece together the scene before my eyes.

I am lying on the kitchen table in my house. My mother and Prim are tending to my back because I was caught for hunting. Cray is gone. Peeta was forced to watch. _Peeta._

Frantically, I begin searching the room with my eyes until I spot him. He is sitting in a chair a few yards away; his elbows resting on his knees, and his fingers tangled in his hair.

"Peeta," I croak in a hoarse whisper.

I watch as he lifts his head and meets my eyes.

"Katniss!" he exclaims as he rushes over to kneel at my side and cups his hands around my face. "Katniss, I am so sorry… I am so sorry…" he says, tears dripping down from the corners of his eyes. "I tried to stop them! But they wouldn't listen! It's my fault. I—I should've been the one to go to Cray. It was so stupid of me… I'm sorry." He's still crying, and my heart is breaking.

"Peeta, _stop_," I say as firmly as I can. "It was not your fault. No one knew," I say, refusing to reveal the fact that someone did indeed know about this. But I know that nothing good will come out of accusing his mother of planning the whole thing. We will just have to be extra careful. No more hunting, unless it's an emergency. It's going to be okay.

"I can't believe this happened. It was like watching my worst nightmare happening right in front of me, but I couldn't _do_ anything!" he explains.

"I'm sorry you had to see it. You helped me hold on," I say, remembering how my thoughts of Peeta kept me conscious longer than I could have done on my own. "I love you."

He gently lifts one of my hands to his lips and kisses it softly. "I love you forever. I will stay right here the whole time, okay?"

"Okay," I say. "What happened after I—after it finished?" I ask.

"Nothing really. The crowd cleared out. The Peacekeepers agreed that your punishment was sufficient, and they just left you... So I came over and untied you, and a few people who were brave enough to help came to carry you here on a piece of plywood. You were so pale, and you were shaking…" Peeta tries to explain.

"Yeah, and we practically had a heart attack when we opened the door and saw the state you were in," adds Prim concernedly.

"I'm sorry," I say apologetically.

"Don't be. I don't think it was fair. Any of it," she says.

"It's not, Little Duck, but there's nothing we can do about it. It's over."

"Since then, we've been waiting for you to wake up," continues Peeta.

"Wait, how long was I out?" I inquire.

"A little over a day," my Prim says.

"Oh," I say. "Peeta, you should go home. Get some sleep."

"It's okay, love. I'll be here," he says, trying to smile encouragingly.

"No, Peet—"

"Shhh…" he says. "It's okay. I promise."

"Katniss, I need you to drink this. It will help you go to sleep so your body can heal faster," my mother says.

I swallow the cup of liquid, and within a few minutes, my eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before I realize what's going on, I drift into unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 11: Marks

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* * *

During my time of "confinement," as I so fittingly like to call the period during which I am unable to leave my house due to my back wounds, Peeta faithfully comes to visit as often as he can, which has been less frequently than usual thanks to his mother. (I think Mrs. Mellark is probably wishing that I died from the whipping, but since I didn't, she has been enlisting Peeta to take on more than his fair share of work at the bakery; that way he won't have time to be with me. The only problem is that even when he doesn't have time, Peeta makes time, so as annoying as Mrs. Mellark's plan is, it isn't entirely effective. _She_ doesn't have to know that though.)

When he comes over, we just talk; sometimes he paints, and I watch. I love watching him paint. One day, however, I convince him to turn on the television. After the increase in security, I feel more of an urgency to understand, to find answers, and one of the questions that has been on the forefront of my thoughts is: did District 13 really survive? I find myself wondering if it could really be true. The first step to finding out lies in discovering if what Bonnie and Twill said about the District 13 footage is true.

Typically, we don't watch the television except during mandatory viewings because it is full of Capitol propaganda and clips from 74 years of Hunger Games, footage which no one wants to relive, but today, I am looking for something specific: a mockingjay.

It hurts to put pressure of any kind on my back, so my mother has made a make-shift pallet for me with spare pillows and blankets from around the house. Peeta sits with me on the floor in front of my family's old, outdated television while my mother and Prim busy themselves with their normal tasks; they don't know why we are watching television, but even so, they don't care to join us. I don't blame them. Neither I nor Peeta is really paying a lot of attention to what is on; instead, we are talking and waiting for key words and images such as "District 13" or the Justice Building or "Dark Days" or ruins from the bombing to jump out at us.

After a few hours of nothing, we are about to give up for the day, when, suddenly, I spot the image I've been waiting for: District 13's Justice Building.

"Peeta!" I exclaim.

"I know," he replies.

We both watch as a female reporter from the Capitol stands in front of the Justice Building with an oxygen mask to assure all of Panem that the toxic vapors surrounding Thirteen create an environment that is still unlivable. At the end of the scene, right before it switches back to recaps of past Hunger Games and more propaganda, I shift my gaze to the top right corner of the screen, and there it is: a mockingjay, just like Bonnie and Twill said.

I turn my head to see what Peeta is thinking. He looks just as flabbergasted as I feel.

"So they were telling the truth about the footage," Peeta begins in a hushed tone. "Maybe they're right about the whole thing?"

"Come on, Peeta. You know that footage doesn't necessarily prove anything," I say, trying to reason with him in an equally as hushed voice.

"Yeah, I know," he says disappointedly, "but if things keep going like they are, I think we might need to have a plan in place in case we have to pull a 'Bonnie and Twill.' We won't really have much of a choice," Peeta says, referring to an escape plan. Ever since we were locked out of the woods by the newly-charged electric fence, we don't really have a safe place to talk freely, so most of the time we resort to coded conversation just in case anyone is listening in on us.

I understand what he's saying because things have gotten progressively worse since the day of my whipping. It seems like people are being punished, Captiol-style, left and right. Some people are hauled off to the Capitol and never heard of again. We all know what kind if life they will be living: the life of an Avox. Others are held in the stocks for days without food. Starvation is rampant throughout the entire district, even in town people are struggling. With Peeta's help and my tesserae, we are barely able to avoid starvation ourselves; even so, I recognize signs of malnutrition in myself, my mother, Prim, and even in Peeta. But all of these miserable conditions cannot convince me to bring my mother and Prim into the wild. Peeta knows this.

"Peeta..."

"Katniss, I know what you're going to say, but pretty soon, we won't have a choice. We could starve here. At least we can hunt if we run to the woods. Here we are trapped, completely dependent on the Capitol. One mistake and they could take us away or string us up on the gallows. Even a life of surviving in the wild is better than this. Thirteen or no Thirteen," he explains with urgency.

I sigh, "Fine, Peeta, but we have to include the Hawthornes. And this is _only_ a precaution to be used in _emergency_ situations. Okay?" I add firmly.

Immediately, Peeta and I begin piecing together the beginnings of an escape plan. I decide to talk to Gale as soon as we make the final decisions about how it'll happen, _if _it happens at all. I don't know if he would come with us, but I have to try to tell him.

* * *

By the time February fades into March and the sun begins melting the deepest layers of ice into soggy puddles of mush, I am fully healed from my Captiol-ordained punishment. Every so often, if I move a certain way, a sharp pain will shoot up my back, but I think that is the permanent nerve-damage. Nothing can be done about it. It's there to stay just like my scars.

The first time I saw Thread after my whipping, he asked me if my "boy" likes my stripes. My initial reaction was to scream and attack, much like a wild animal would do, but instead, I remained composed, shot him the most hate-filled glare I could muster up, and continued about my business as usual. Now, he only gives me cruel little smirks and tells me to watch myself. Somehow, I manage or ignore him, but I'm always careful to watch my back.

As soon as I was healed enough to walk and move around, I found myself standing in front of a mirror examining my scars: the marks left by the Capitol. Although the stripes are not as torn and bloody and disgusting as I am sure they were at first, they are still there, and they aren't leaving any time soon. Peeta assures me that I'm still beautiful, even with my marks, but I see the sadness that flashes across his eyes any time he sees them. I think he still feels guilty. I've told him a million times it's not his fault but he can't seem to accept it.

I will not let this happen again.

I think Peeta feels the same way about everything that has happened. Any time the words, 'Capitol' or 'Peacekeeper' come up in a conversation, his whole body becomes tense. He hates what they did to me. I hate it too.

There have been lasting marks left on both of us, but we promised that we would be there to catch each other when we fall. That's what love is after all: choosing to love a person even when it's hard—especially when it's hard. Those are the times when it means the most.

As for hunting, we've tried to go a couple of times for food, but the fence is electrified all the time now, and the number of Peacekeepers in our district makes sneaking around more of a challenge than ever.

The Everdeen household has been forced to rely on any plants I am able to gather in the Meadow, the grains from my tesserae, and the stale bread Peeta brings us from the bakery when he can for sustenance. It's barely enough.

For a while there, before all these extra security measures were enforced, I was relatively content. Peeta and Gale were beginning to get along. We even went hunting as a group a couple of times, when Gale could manage the time away. Then, when he turned eighteen and began working in the mines, I stopped seeing him during the week. From then on, we only saw each other on Sundays to hunt, but now everything has changed.

The mines are grueling work from morning until night. I don't know how he does it. At least, he has some extra money to help provide for the things that hunting used to cover. Even with the extra tesseraes his siblings have had to take out and his long shifts at the mines, the Hawthornes are still struggling, and I don't know what to do about it.

Once again, I feel trapped.

With Gale working in the mines so much, I don't have very many options to meet with him and inform him of the plan Peeta and I have come up with, so I decide to visit his house on Sunday to talk about it there. We will have to be careful though; anyone could overhear us.

* * *

Sunday comes around soon enough, so I collect my thoughts and begin the short walk down the street to the Hawthornes' house. I decide not to bring Peeta along; I don't think Gale would appreciate that very much.

The bitter cold of winter has passed away along with many layers of snow, and as the wind blows a crisp, cold breeze across my face, I find myself longing to be in the woods more than ever. I miss the smell of dirt and the closeness of the trees and the gentle quietness that comes with a good hunt. Not to mention the fact that today is Sunday and I am going to see Gale. I miss our hunting days together.

A few moments after I knock on Gale's front door, Hazelle comes to answer it. She greets me with a smile and I return the gesture. After a few minutes of catching up, she runs to fetch Gale. Soon, I find myself face-to-face with my best friend. He looks exhausted, and I can't help but feel slightly troubled at the sight of him. My memories of him have always included a Gale that is full of life and passion and adventure, but this Gale in front of me appears drained and worn. It seems that the Capitol is leaving marks on all of us in different ways. I push back the surge of hatred that pulses through my body, and focus on the task at hand. I have to tell Gale about our plan.

"Hey, Gale," I greet him warmly.

"Heya, Catnip," he says. I can tell that he is trying to make himself sound like the old Gale I knew in the woods, the one who had at least a little freedom. He doesn't want me to see that he has changed for the worse. "How's the back?"

Gale visited several times during my "confinement," mostly on Sundays when he wasn't working a shift in the mines, but occasionally he dropped in late at night. Prim told me that he came by the night of my whipping as soon as he heard about what happened, but I was unconscious, so I didn't have a chance to talk to him. Besides those few visitations, I haven't seen much of him. I miss my best friend.

"It's much better, thanks," I reply. "I need to talk to you, Gale. Do you have some time?" I ask. His eyes narrow as he notices the serious tone in my voice.

"Sure, Catnip. What's going on? Is everyone okay?"

"Don't worry. We are all okay. At least, we are as well as anyone can be these days," I say, sighing. "I just need you to know about some things. Wanna take a walk?" I emphasize key words so that he knows it is important yet sensitive information.

"Sure," he replies casually, but the intense look in his eyes tells me that he is eager to hear what I have to share with him. I hope he will agree to come with us if we have to flee.

We take a walk through the Seam and spend a few minutes updating each other on life as we make our way to the Meadow, the one place where we might have a little more privacy. When we arrive, Gale finds us both a good rock to sit on. I find myself wishing spring would hurry up and bring green back to District 12. I miss the budding wildflowers of the Meadow. I realize that there are a lot of things I've been missing lately. Some things I will experience again as time goes by, but with other things, I may not be so lucky.

"We have a plan, Gale. In case things get worse, we have a plan to get away," I blurt out as soon as I get the chance, but I still make sure to keep my voice down just in case.

"Katniss…" he sighs.

"Just wait… Before the fences were electrified, Peeta and I went hunting down by the lake— the one my father used to take me to—but we ran into two girls from Eight. They were fleeing the oppression there and headed for Thirteen—"

"Why would they do that? Thirteen was destroyed," he interrupts.

"That's what I said, but they told me they've about the rumors they've heard and that the clip of Thirteen's Justice Building is the same footage every time; the Capitol just edits over it to make it look new. Peeta and I checked and it's true. Every time there is the same mockingjay in the upper right hand corner. Why would they show the same footage if there's nothing to hide? I think something fishy is going on. I don't know if District 13 survived or not, but I think if conditions get much worse, we won't have much of an option. That's why we came up with a plan. In case anything happens," I explain.

"Okay. Let's hear it," he says, playing along.

"It's pretty generic, but it's all we have. Basically, we each have a bag packed with the essentials: a knife, some food, clothes, a blanket, matches, and all that, so we can be ready to go in a moment's notice. If we encounter trouble or are not in a place where we can talk freely, the code to activate the plan is "Bonnie and Twill"—those are the names of the girls we met in the woods. Not far from the place where we used to crawl under the fence, there is a tree branch that hangs over the electric fence, so we tied a rope to it and camouflaged it so no one will suspect anything, and we are to cross over the fence and wait for each other in the woods at our old meeting place. We have bags prepped for our families as well. If you want, you can join us," I explain.

"Okay, so what happens if we aren't all together when the plan is put into action," he asks, obviously skeptical.

"I don't know, Gale. I guess we wait to tell that person if we can, or leave a message for whoever it is to meet us, but we can't wait too long or else Peacekeepers might catch up with us."

"Well, you need to set a time limit. If we have people tracking us, they could find us in an hour or less, so I would say that we can't wait any longer than one hour, and then we will have to move on. Katniss, that means that if I'm in the mines, you'll have to send a message somehow, but if I don't show up in an hour, you have to leave me. Take my family with you, though, okay?" he says sadly.

"Gale, they won't leave you," I say.

"But you have to try to convince them. Tell them it's what I want," he pleads.

"They won't come. I already know. Besides, this is completely hypothetical. It probably won't even happen," I say, reassuring myself.

"Just try, Katniss. The whole point of a plan is making sure you are prepared for the different outcomes, so I am telling you what I want included in the plan if I am going to be a participant," he explains firmly.

"Fine, but I'm telling you, they won't listen to me. They would rather risk a life of misery in Twelve with you than a life in the woods without you. Honestly, Gale, you are probably the only person on this planet capable of convincing your family to live in the wild."

"Yeah, well, you never know until you try," he says, obviously frustrated.


	12. Chapter 12: The Announcement

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* * *

By the end of our conversation, I promise Gale that if it comes down to it, I will try to convince his family to leave him for the wild. It's not going to happen, but I decide to at least give him the comfort of knowing that I will try. None of that matters, though, because I will make sure he makes it to the woods on time. I don't think I could live with myself if I left him.

As Peeta and I walk to my house from school, my thoughts drift Mrs. Aspen's announcement earlier today. She said that there will be a mandatory viewing tonight on the television. I can't help but wonder what new horrors the Capitol has to unleash upon us. Peeta is saying something to me, but I don't hear him because I am imagining all of the worst outcomes of this announcement: less food, more Peacekeepers, more Hunger Games…

"Katniss?" Peeta startles me back into the present, away from my increasingly terrifying thoughts.

"Hmm?" I ask.

"Are you okay? I asked you what you think the viewing is about tonight," he explains.

"Oh, sorry. Actually, that's what I was thinking about just now. I don't know, but I just hope it's not about any of the things that I've been imagining," I say. Peeta just looks at me concernedly, but doesn't say anything more on the topic.

We decide to watch the viewing together at my house. I lay a blanket on the floor, and Peeta, Prim, my mother, and I sit down to watch the announcement about how the Capitol is going to ruin our lives next.

Almost as soon as we are all settled in, a purple-haired woman with a squeaky voice and a bald man with green and gold tattoos all over his bald scalp begin discussing the exciting news that the president will be announcing the terms of the third Quarter Quell, the 75th Hunger Games.

Suddenly, it all makes sense: the increase in security, the large number of Peacekeepers in all the districts, the punishments, the Capitol's attempts to control the districts completely. They need us subdued, starving, exhausted, and weak so that we can't fight back. Whatever the terms of this Quell are, they can't be good.

I think I'm going to be sick.

"Ugh. I can never get over the fact that the Capitol actually _anticipates_ the Games. It's disgusting," Peeta comments.

"I just hope none of us are chosen," says Prim with a shaky voice. My heart aches. I wish more than anything that my little sister could grow up without the constant threat of having to fight to the death in a Hunger Games arena hanging over her.

I swallow the illness that is threatening to overtake me and put on a reassuring smile for my little sister. "Don't worry, Little Duck, they won't pick you. You'll only have your name in twice." I stroke her hair and hold her close, trying to hide the fear that I have for all of us. I think Peeta notices how difficult this is for me. He wraps his own arm around me and holds me as I hold Prim. My mother smiles at me and reaches over to rub Prim's back comfortingly.

I wish we could all stay like this forever, here in each other's arms, but our moment of peace is cut short as the screen focuses on President Snow. He rambles on about the history of Panem and reason for the Games. Several minutes later, he finally gets to the part we don't know.

"I know you have all been eagerly awaiting news about the third Quarter Quell in celebration of our 75th year of the Hunger Games," the president says.

_More like dreading it with every fiber of our beings_, I think to myself. The president continues by reminding us of past Quells.

I watch as a small boy dressed in white approaches the president with a box. He opens the box to reveal several envelopes—whoever planned all these envelopes prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president grabs the first envelope which is marked with the number 75, and he opens it ceremoniously.

"In honor of this 75th year of the Hunger Games, each district will offer up two tributes from the ages of eight years of age and older to remind the rebels that from the youngest to the oldest, no one can overcome the power of the Capitol," the president says with a sickening smile as the Capitol citizens whoop and yell with delight.

This time, I can't hold it down. I pull myself up to my feet as fast as I can and run to the nearest trash can so I can throw up.

This is an all-time low even for the Capitol. Children, little eight-year-olds, and elderly men and women forced to kill each other. How can this be acceptable? How is any of it acceptable? It's not. And I have had enough of it. I am really considering our escape plan right about now. We told the majority of our family members about it, but even they didn't seem to keen to leave any time soon. Even so, I can't imagine Prim or my mother in the wild.

"Are you okay?" Peeta whispers as he rushes over to my aid.

"Yeah," I say as I wipe my sleeve across my face, annoyed that I just expelled all the contents of my stomach into the trash. Food is valuable and it's growing more and more difficult to obtain, so I need every bit I can get, but once again, my stomach is empty for yet another long night of hunger pains.

I walk to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water as Peeta continues worriedly, "Katniss, are you sure? Maybe you should get some sleep."

"No, Peeta, I don't think I'll be sleeping any time soon," I say, realizing that nightmares of slaughtered eight-year-olds and grandparent will most likely frequent my nighttime hours for the next several months.

"Yeah, same here. I can't believe this. I really just can't believe any of it. Maybe we are just dreaming. Maybe we'll wake up tomorrow and discover none of this is real," he says.

"I wish... Peeta, we have to get away from here. I can't do this anymore. I can't watch Prim suffer. And now I have my mother to worry about as well. Almost anyone could be chosen as a tribute. I can't keep watching the Capitol take everything from us," I say pleadingly.

"Katniss, there's nothing we can do. It's just like any other year. Just look at it this way: the bigger the Reaping pool, the less chance there is that anyone in our families will be chosen," he explains. His point is valid, but I still can't escape the images of tiny people and old people being stabbed to death or skewered by spears or eaten by mutts. It's still horrible no matter how you look at it.

I walk back to the television to find Prim curled up in my mother's lap fast asleep, complete with tear-stained cheeks. Once again, my heart breaks for her, my Little Duck.

The worst part of this whole thing is the fact that the Quell has been announced much earlier than most Games due to its special nature and the overwhelming enthusiasm for it found amongst the Capitol citizens. Now, the nightmares will keep us up all night two months earlier than usual. Now, I realize that I need to convince the people I love to leave this place once and for all.

Once the Reaping is over and the Games begin, security should return to normal. The fence will stop giving off electricity, Peacekeepers will return to the posts they held before they were forced to oppress Twelve, and the "punishments" should decrease. As long as none of us are selected as tributes, we might have a chance to get out of District 12 successfully. Maybe the excitement of the Games will even help us leave unnoticed.

I decide to spend the next couple of months preparing for departure and convincing everyone to follow me into the woods, into freedom, into the wild.


	13. Chapter 13: Not Ready

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* * *

Once again, we all stand anxiously before the Justice Building to find out which two children from District Twelve will be fighting to the death in the Hunger Games arena. As Effie Trinket approaches the Reaping bowls, I grab Peeta's hand to steady me. My legs feel wobbly and numb, and I'm not sure how much longer they will bear my weight. I keep swallowing back bile and tears and screams because what is happening is my worst nightmare, everything I always told myself I would protect myself from, but I chose Peeta.

_It's going to be okay_, I think to myself. I begin to focus on my breathing, and I make a list of all the good things in the world.

_The odds are in our favor. _

_The odds are in our favor. _

_The odds are in our favor._

"Ladies first!" Effie exclaims enthusiastically. She reaches into the bowl and pulls out a slip of paper, smiling as always. "Meadow Mellark!" she calls out.

I am struck immobile. Shocked. I can't speak. I can't move. I can't even breathe as I watch the little girl with the long, curly black hair and sky blue eyes walk up to the stage. My little girl. The child that I held in my womb only eight short years ago. Meadow. My very own. A piece of me. The product of mine and Peeta's love. The one I have watched grow and walk and paint and bake and smile. The little one I strapped to my back and took hunting. The one I cradled in my arms in the late hours of the night. Of all the names in that bowl, she is the one they chose.

The next thing I know, I am bent over, releasing the most desperate, blood-curdling scream from the depths of my being. Tears. Tears and pain and numbness and cold are all I feel. My throat stings from the force of the grief pouring forth from my vocal chords...

"Katniss! KATNISS! It's okay! I'm here!" I hear a familiar voice drawing me back, pulling me away from the pain and the numbness. Suddenly, I feel very aware of myself, of my body and my surroundings. A blanket lies beneath me. I'm in the Meadow. Peeta lies beside me, cradling me. We're okay.

_It was only a dream_, I tell myself, but the grief is still too close, too real. I pull my knees up to my chest, bury my face in them, and begin weeping. Peeta doesn't try to ask me what happened. He knows it's too fresh. He simply curls up behind me, wrapping my body with his, protecting me and comforting me.

"It's okay, love. Everything is okay. I'm here. I love you," he whispers softly into my ear as I weep and grieve and mourn the future that I fear. After that, he is silent. He lets me cry until there are no tears left to release.

Usually, being with Peeta helps control the nightmares, and since we haven't been sleeping at all lately, we started taking naps together in the Meadow when we have time. Today was different though. Before we went to sleep, we talked about our future together. It was obviously too much for me. Although I have chosen Peeta, the thought of having children and raising them in Twelve destroys me. I fall to pieces at the thought. And now more than ever, I hate the control that the Capitol has over every part of my life, even something as special as my future family.

I don't know how long I cry in Peeta's arms, but when I come to, I realize I've been staring at the same patch of grass for a long time. The only sounds I hear are those of the wind in the trees and his steady breaths in my ear. My heart aches. I so want to be able to give him everything, but I don't think I'll be able to live with this fear forever. I cannot simply stand by and watch the Capitol destroy the family I've yet to have.

At last, it seems Peeta has deemed it safe to test the waters and speak up, "Katniss, I love you—no matter what. You know that right?" He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at me; his hand caresses my face as he speaks. I nod, still staring at the same patch grass. "Katniss?" He gently turns my face so we make eye contact. As I look into his sky blue eyes, I almost lose it all over again, so I pull my face from his hand and look away once more.

"I can't do this Peeta," I say, almost breaking.

"What Katniss? What can't you do?" he asks.

"I can't do this. Us. Our future. Together. In Twelve. I don't think I'll survive if anything happens," I say, as I bury my face in my hands, afraid of his reaction.

"I don't understand. What happened? Let me in. Let me help. Please?" he pleads.

"I dreamt that we had a little girl. She had blue eyes like yours and curly hair like you do, but her hair was black just like mine. I could remember things about her life growing up. Peeta, it was so _real_," I explain.

"That's wonderful, Katniss. A little girl!" His voice is excited and full of wonder.

I turn to look at him, "Her name was chosen on Reaping Day." I watch as his bright expression deflates immediately. "She was selected as District Twelve's tribute at the age of eight. We watched our own daughter walk toward her death, and there was nothing we could do about it. I've never felt so much pain, so trapped and useless," I say with tears running down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says as his own eyes become glossy with tears. He pulls me into himself and runs his fingers comfortingly through my hair. "We won't let that happen. I promise," he says firmly, protectively. A few minutes pass by, and he speaks up again, "Can you tell me more about her, our daughter? It's okay if you can't," he blushes. "I'm just a little curious."

I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm at the prospect of our future children. "It's okay, Peeta, but this doesn't make it real," I say refusing to believe that my dream has any realistic meaning. "Her name was Meadow Mellark."

He smiles the sweetest smile. One day, if we get out of this mess, Peeta is going to make the most wonderful father. "Meadow Mellark... It has a nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

I laugh. "Well, I mean, I did dream it, so obviously it's been hidden in there somewhere..."

"You've been holding out on me, Ms. Everdeen! You already have the names of our children planned out!?" He asks, incredulous.

"Not really, seeing as I've been terrified of having children ever since I can remember. It's just a name I've always appreciated," I explain.

"Oh," he says, obviously disappointed.

"I'm sorry Peeta. I just can't think about that right now, okay? It doesn't mean it'll never happen. I don't know what the future holds, but I'm just not ready to talk about that actually happening yet," I explain. I wish I could dream about the future with Peeta; I just can't. Not yet. Not here where children are forced to fight to the death in the Hunger Games.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Peeta and I have somehow managed to convince key individuals in our families to escape the claws of the Capitol by fleeing into the wild. In Peeta's family, he has convinced Mr. Mellark and in mine, my Little Duck. Both of these individuals are now helping to focus the attack on the more challenging members of the family which are, in both of our cases, our mothers. Regardless, we have some time to sort it all out before the Reaping happens and all the ruckus with these extra Peacekeepers dies down. Just in case, we both have several supply bags stashed away; each bag contains enough gear to keep two people alive for up to four days. That is, if we are careful.

Both of us still struggle with sleeping, but we find time to spend together and nap in the Meadow. Every day, we are learning more and more about each other and how to read each other's moods and expressions. Every day with Peeta is an adventure. If I didn't have him, I'm pretty sure I would go crazy due to lack of sleep, lack of social interaction with people my own age, and lack of hunting. Oh, yes. The electrified fence has become a major source of frustration, especially since Peeta was learning so much! To compensate, sometimes we practice our aim by throwing rocks at random objects, and I have managed to teach Peeta how to build a few simple snares, nothing fancy though, Gale was always the expert in snares. Every once in a while, our snares will trap a squirrel or a rabbit, and when that happens, I teach Peeta how to skin and gut the animals. We bury the skins and the guts, and we are always careful to hide the snares well because Peacekeepers still patrol the area. We only take what we can eat quickly because we don't want to be caught with a house full of incriminating evidence.

As much as I want to, I can't take the credit for any of our Meadow adventures; it was all Peeta's idea. I think he realized that—after a few weeks of no hunting or walking in the woods or anything—I might go crazy without some kind of outlet. He knows me, and I love it. We are glad to have each other, especially with the tension plaguing District 12 at this time of year. We will both need each other to lean on. After all, the Reaping will be upon us in a matter of a few short weeks.


	14. Chapter 14: No Matter What

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* * *

My nightmares are interrupted suddenly by a piercing scream. Not just any scream, I know that voice.

"Prim!" I yell. I don't know what's happening to her, but if that scream is any sign, it can't be good. I jump out of bed and search the early-morning darkness for her blond hair, ready to attack whatever it is that is provoking her screams.

"Prim!" I yell again, but this time, I have oriented myself enough to see that we are alone in our house. Prim is lying in bed with my mother, and she's thrashing around, still trapped in a nightmare. My mother is trying to wake her, but Prim's arms are flailing, throwing off any attempt my mother makes to comfort her. I try to calm her myself, but she pushes me away as well. I do the only thing I can think of: I sing.

"Deep in the meadow  
Under the willow  
A bed of grass  
A soft green pillow  
Lay down your head  
And close your sleepy eyes  
And when again they open  
The sun will rise..."

As I sing, she calms enough for my mother to pull her into her arms gently and stroke her hair until she slips back into a peaceful sleep.

Part of me wants to wake her up, but she seems fine now. She needs to sleep for the remaining few hours of the morning; today will be a long day.

As for me, I won't be sleeping any time soon. My heart is still pounding inside my chest. Since my mother is still awake and watching, I climb back into bed and pretend to be asleep. All the while, the pressure in my chest is intensifying rather than dissipating. I can't believe it's today. In a few short hours, I, along everyone I love, will be offered up as potential tributes to die a bloody death for the amusement of the Capitol citizens. I need something to take my mind off of the coming events.

A little while later, I peak over the blanket to check on Prim and my mother; they are both asleep. I get up, throw on my father's hunting jacket, and head to the Meadow for an early-morning walk.

As I approach my usual spot in the Meadow, I notice the lovely twittering of several mockingjays. Instinctively, I look down at the gold pin fastened to my father's jacket, and I smile. I take a deep breath, inhale the smells of the earth: moist dirt, dewy grass, and a subtle, sweet smell of wildflowers. The sky has changed even from just a few minutes ago when I left my house in the Seam. It was a purplish color, but now it's a pinky orange. I wish Peeta was here with me. Since he isn't, I decide to distract myself by imagining what we'd be doing if he was. He'd probably bring a blanket, and we'd talk for a bit, but then, he would wrap his arms around me and pull me close. Then we'd kiss until we tired and fall asleep in each other's arms. I always feel safer when I'm nestled up next to him. It makes me wish I could afford to dream of days spent next to each other, where we are free to love and be loved without the fear of the Capitol ruining everything, of a day when I could take his name and give him everything I have. But I can't. And I hate the fact that I'm not even sure I ever will get a chance.

I startle as I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I quickly turn to see who has ambushed my daydreams, and I am pleasantly surprised to find Peeta.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks.

"Nope. Prim was having nightmares."

"I was too, and laying in bed made everything worse, so I needed a distraction. A walk sounded lovely, but I have to admit that the thought that I might find you here had a significant appeal that, ultimately, made the decision to come here for me," he explains, teasing.

I embrace him and kiss him, but I soon realize that the stress of the day has stirred up a desperation within me, so I deepen the kiss and pull myself even closer to him.

"Katniss..." he says between breaths. "Katniss, it's okay... I'm here."

I keep kissing him until he kisses me back. Soon, we are totally united in our movements, and I never want to stop. I never want this feeling to go away, this hunger that cannot be put to words. Then, the tears begin to fall, slowly. Peeta notices and pulls back to take me in. I notice that even this early, he smells like bread, cinnamon bread. He gently caresses my face with his hands, and gives me a questioning look, unsure of what to make of my emotional state.

"I can't lose you or anyone," I cry, trying to explain.

"You won't. There are too many people in the Reaping this year. The odds are most definitely in our favor, even more than usual," he says, trying to ease the anxiety that's threatening to strangle me.

I nod. I know what he is saying is true, but I also know that there is still a chance; all of our names will be in the Reaping bowls, so regardless of the odds, they are still only that: odds.

Every year, without fail, this day, Reaping day, is the most anxiety-filled of the entire year, and the fact that I have been having reoccurring dreams of my future children being chosen as tributes doesn't alleviate the stress by any means. Sometimes they are so real that I wake up believing they really happened, that I really am a mother suffering emotionally as I learn to cope with the imminent death of my child, but when I realize that I'm only seventeen, I'm not married, and I'm living at home with my mother and Prim, I finally accept that the dreams aren't real. I think Peeta understands that it's more than just the Reaping that's bothering me. This is the first Reaping I've been a part of since Peeta and I started dating, and he has been aware of my fears about loving a man from the very beginning. Needless to say, my worries about the future remain unspoken, yet I know that Peeta is aware of the full extent of my anxiety and that he will always be here for me, to comfort me and wait for me to work things out in my heart. He is so patient with me.

"I have to head back to the bakery pretty soon to prepare for all the celebratory meals that will happen after the Reaping, but I'm happy I got to be with you, if only for a little while," he says apologetically. He kisses me again. "Try to rest, Katniss. No matter what, it's gonna be okay. Hopefully, we won't have to deal with all this next year," he says, hinting at our plans to escape Twelve, if they actually happen.

We still haven't convinced everyone. The Hawthorne family will come (only if Gale does), but as for Peeta's family, I don't think Peeta's mother will ever agree, and I don't really want her to. I would be perfectly okay leaving her behind to rot in this hell hole, but Mr. Mellark wouldn't leave her behind, I don't think. I don't know what Peeta will do if they won't come. I don't know what I will do if my mother won't come; she would never let me take Prim. She thinks we are overreacting and that things will settle down again, but if settling down means children will still be forced to die in the Hunger Games, then it's not settled enough for me to enjoy a life here.

Peeta kisses me goodbye before he leaves to distract himself with baking bread. I pass the next several hours walking around the Meadow and dreaming of being in the woods. Even though my imagination helps distract me somewhat, the reminder of what awaits me in a few short hours remains very real and unconcealed in my mind, always ready to take its place at the forefront of my thoughts as soon as I drift back into reality for even a split second.

I don't really have an appetite for breakfast or lunch, so I skip them both. At this point, with all the nervousness that is plaguing me, I'm pretty sure I would probably puke up anything I consumed anyways. Only when I absolutely have to, I head home to clean up before the gathering at the Justice Building. Every year it's the same: a bath, a dress, and braided hair. It's the most put together I will ever be.

When we are all ready, including my mother who is also eligible to be chosen as tribute this year, we begin the walk to town. Prim's hair is in two braids. My mom is wearing one of her dresses that she saved from before she married my dad, when she lived in town. I have on my usual blue dress with a fabric belt of the same color and fabric tied at the waist. The only difference this year is Peeta's mockingjay pin fastened to the front.

We arrive and say worthless words of comfort to each other before going to our designated sections which are divided by age and gender. Capitol officials take a sample of my blood by pricking my finger. I notice that Peacekeepers are everywhere, and I don't like the feeling of being so trapped. There's no escaping this.

I walk to the place where I will watch the events of the day play out before me, that is, if I'm not selected to become an active participant. I search for Peeta and find him already looking at me a few rows over. He nods and smiles at me, reassuring me that it will all be okay. I search for Prim and find her standing closer to the front with all the other girls her age; she looks terrified. Gale, on the other hand, looks absolutely defiant; he is a few rows behind Peeta, and his expression is one of resentment and disgust. He hates the Capitol, and I know this Quarter Quell crap has him all riled up. Part of me fears that it will build until it explodes, but Gale is smart. He will hold it all in until he gets an opportune moment to strike, just like a true hunter.

Finally, Effie Trinket begins the usual routine of welcoming us, wishing us a "Happy Hunger Games" and that "the odds be ever in our favor." After the mayor speaks a few words and the video of Panem's history and the reason for the Hunger Games is shown once again, Effie, with her usual enthusiastic tone, exclaims, "As always, ladies first!" She draws a name, and I am praying that it's no one that I know. "Iris Helmsworth!" she calls out.

I watch as a little girl with dark curly hair walks toward the stage. She couldn't be more than eight or nine years old. I look up on the big screen that shows the footage being shown all over Panem, and I notice the color of the little girl's eyes: blue.

Immediately, I am flashing back to dream memories stored in my head. Memories of a little girl with blue eyes and black, curly hair learning to walk for the first time, baking bread with Peeta, dancing in the rain. My mind is unable to separate dreams from reality. All I know is my daughter is going to die.

I have to do something.

I turn and meet Peeta's gaze once more, and he must see the fire that is catching in my eyes and spreading all over me because his face turns as pale as a ghost. He is shaking his head at me, trying to hold me together with his unspoken words. I can't just stand here while our daughter walks to her death. Maybe I'm crazy. I definitely feel like I am right now.

I turn to face the screen again. She's still there. It's all so blurry. Next thing I know, I am hurtling myself at the stage. I don't make it as far as I would have liked before a Peacekeeper, no two Peacekeepers have me trapped by both arms. I'm crying and screaming, "No! No! You can't do this! You can't do this! This is wrong! You are so wrong for this!"

I'm thrashing my arms, and I feel my elbow make contact with some part of a Peacekeeper. Everything is happening so fast that I can't tell where my hits make their mark. One of the Peacekeepers uses his gun to knock me in the jaw, to shut me up and to keep me from resisting. Lights twinkle across my vision, and it takes me several seconds to reorient myself. All I can register is a flash of blond hair and the deep, angry yell of a familiar voice, "Stop it! She doesn't know what's happening. She's confused! Leave her _alone_!"

I refocus enough to find Peeta being held back by another couple Peacekeepers, and the one that was on my right, that hit me, is lying on the ground with a bloody nose. Peeta must've struck him to protect me. As my mind finally begins to start distinguishing reality from my imagination, I am able to register the gravity of our situation. I just blatantly acted out against the government, and Peeta injured a government official, and all of it was on live TV for the entirety of Panem to see. Crap. I don't understand what happened. I don't know why my brain went haywire on me, but I think that Peeta and I will be lucky if we can escape this predicament with a flogging. My heart drops in my chest. Am I going crazy? I know fear can make people do crazy things, but I never imagined I would do something so stupid, so dangerous, even if I was just imagining things. I mean, what was I going to do? Grab the little girl and run? To where? We are trapped. There is no escape.

We don't get to stay to find out who the male tribute is. The Peacekeepers escort us immediately to a cell to await the verdict. I assume the boy tribute is not Peeta because he isn't taken away from me. Instead, he sits in a jail cell across the walkway from me, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands curled in his hair. I hope our male tribute isn't Gale or any of the Hawthornes.

I turn to face Peeta. "I'm sorry," is all I can think to say at first, but then a few more words come: "I don't know what happened. Everything was so real to me."

"It doesn't matter now, Katniss," he says tiredly. "All that matters is I love you, and I'm with you no matter what. Do you understand that?" He asks, desperately searching my eyes to see if I truly believe that he is with me.

I nod. Next, my mind is assaulted by "what ifs." What if they kill us for this? What if we are made into Avoxes to work in the Capitol forever? What if we can never be together because of my stupidity? What if they hurt our families? I don't know what to expect, but I feel so stupid, so guilty. Whatever happens is my fault.

Just as I am beginning to confront these thoughts in my head, the door opens at the end of the hall, and I see an older man, a Seam native by the looks of his hair and eyes, rush towards us. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you two idiots?!" he exclaims. I recognize that voice and the subtle yet characteristic slur of his words as belonging to none other than the drunken District Twelve mentor, our district's only living victor of the Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy.

Why on earth is _he_ here?


	15. Chapter 15: Facing the Unknown

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Haymitch stops in between the two of our cells, waiting for a response.

"Uhh... Long story, but I'm sure if you turn on a television, you'll figure it out soon enough," I say sarcastically. I don't know what his intentions are, but I don't appreciate his tone.

"Good one, sweetheart. Unfortunately, I've already seen that much. What I'm trying to figure out is why you ran after the girl like some crazy lunatic... What were you planning to do with her once you rescued her? Disappear?" he asks sarcastically. "Tell it to me straight. I don't have much time to waste on you two and all your... issues, but I need to know what happened."

I don't really know what I was planning to do once I got to her; I just knew I had to do something. I wasn't thinking that far ahead.

Peeta speaks up for me: "I'm not sure what happened, really. Katniss has been having these dreams about her future children being killed in the Games, and I think it just became too real. It was like she was sleepwalking or in a trance or something. She mixed up dreams from reality... Right?" he asks, turning toward me.

"I guess. I don't even know. I was just so... angry and overwhelmed by everything," I say, looking down.

"Well you two better buckle up because the Capitol won't let you off easy. Your defiance was on live television for the whole country to see, and I know first-hand what they do to people who make them look bad," he sighs sadly. "They won't kill you because that's too easy. They'll want to make an example of you so that Panem will see what happens when you oppose their Games."

"What does that mean? What will they do?" I ask desperately.

"I don't know, but I would prepare for the worst," he warns. Something about the expression he wears makes me think he knows more than he is leading us to believe.

And what is "the worst"? What does that even mean? What could be worse than dying? My imagination begins to run wild, and I am forced to battle with myself until my thoughts shift back into the present. What have I done? I need a distraction to keep me from breaking, so I bite my lip and keep the conversation moving:

"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be taking your little tributes to the Capitol?" I ask, frustrated.

"They're in their visitations right now, and I wanted to figure out if this whole outburst had and meaning behind it. I'm sure this won't be the last we hear of it. The Capitol will want answers, so I came to get them. Turns out, it looks like there's nothing much to it besides two overly-emotional, idiot teenagers..." he sighs again. "Look, I'm sorry, but you two just opened a door that won't be shut easily. Life is about to throw some major crap in your face, and you need to be ready to deal with it. If I were you, I would start trying to form some kind of plan..." he hesitates. "You should know, Twelve isn't going to calm down any time soon, especially not after y'all's little act," he adds before turning on his heel to exit the prison. I find his hesitation a little strange, like he's really trying to say something else but can't. Maybe he's telling us to run? I don't know. I haven't been quite right in the head lately; I wouldn't trust my assumptions at this point.

"Wait!" I shout after him.

"Now what?" he asks impatiently.

"Who—who is the male tribute?" I ask, concerned.

"An older man named Flint Taylor—don't know him personally, but he seems like a fighter," Haymitch informs us.

"Oh," I say, looking down, ashamed of the feeling of relief spreading throughout my body. I shouldn't be okay with Flint being chosen, but I can't help feeling relieved that it's not Peeta or Gale or anyone else that I know. "Thank you... for telling us."

"No problem, sweetheart. Whatever you two do, stay alive." At those words, he opens the door at the end of the hall-where I'm sure several Peacekeepers are standing guard-and leaves us alone with our thoughts. Silence follows his absence. I think we are both trying to wrap our minds around what "the worst" is. I still feel incredibly stupid and guilty, and I have to swallow back my own tears. I can't believe this. Of all the places to lose my composure... the Reaping!?

"Katniss, stop blaming yourself. You couldn't have done anything differently. You didn't know what was happening," Peeta says, trying to reason with me. It's not working. If I would have just stayed put, Peeta and I would be at home right now, eating dinner with our families. He continues, "You thought she was your child. If you just stood there, then you would have something to be concerned about. But you didn't. And that says more to me about your character than anything else that happened today."

"But we wouldn't even be here, Peeta! What if they hurt you or our families or turned us into Avoxes or locked us up forever? How can I live with myself if something like that happens?! Would you be able to?"

He thinks for a few seconds, and then explains, "Yes, I would be able to live with myself because I would know that I did what I thought was right at the time, and I fought for the people I love."

I don't say anything. I just try to see from his perspective. Did I really do what I thought was right? What else could I have done? I don't think I'd feel any better if I just stood there. I couldn't have volunteered for my own child. Those rules do still apply, even during the third Quarter Quell. I guess if I had to do it again, I'd probably do the same thing.

He continues, "I'm proud of you, and I still love you no matter what happens. Whatever the Capitol dishes out at us, I will be there by your side the whole time. I promise."

* * *

We are kept in our cells for what seems like forever. The only human interaction we receive apart from ourselves is the occasional Peacekeeper that comes to check on us. Since there are no windows and only a few lightbulbs dangling from the ceiling to keep the darkness at bay, we have no way of determining the time of day or the number of hours we have been imprisoned. I'm really regretting my decision to skip breakfast and lunch earlier today. Who knows when my next meal will be? My growling stomach does nothing except remind me of the extent of my hunger. Eventually, the growls become loud enough for Peeta to hear them. He chuckles. I scowl.

"When was the last time you ate a meal?" he asks.

"I don't know. Yesterday at some point," I say. "I didn't think I could stomach anything today."

He sighs. "I didn't eat much either..." He pauses, thinking. "When do you think they will make their move? The Capitol, I mean...?"

"Well, the victors should be making their way to the Capitol by train, so I would say any time now. I don't think they would want to  
interrupt their precious Games for us."

"What do you think they'll do?" he asks, trying to hold himself together. I can tell that he is afraid.

"I don't know. I've been trying not to think about it... We should probably get some sleep, though," I say, ending the discussion.

Not long afterward, mere exhaustion grips me in its clutches and relentlessly pulls me into a deep, dreamless sleep. I don't have enough time to enjoy it, however, because almost as soon as fall asleep, the door at the end of the walkway bursts open, and several Peacekeepeers file in to administer the Capitol's form of "justice"—whatever that means.

I look at Peeta one last time before they take us away. I can tell that he didn't sleep at all. His eyes are tired but filled with a mixture of anger and fear. I try to comfort him and communicate all my love for him with my eyes in those last seconds before we face the unknown. I hope he understands them.

Wasting no time, they blindfold us, bind our hands, gag us, and drag us towards wherever they plan to carry out our punishment. No one tells us anything. We move forward, and my heart beats faster and faster as adrenaline begins to pulse through my veins. I wish I could see so I could find Peeta's hand one last time before we are forced to face whatever lies before us.

Several stairs and turns later, I feel fresh, cool air on my skin, and sunlight fights to break through my blindfold. It must be morning. They kept us overnight. We don't walk far before I feel them tie my body to a wooden post. I can't figure out what they are planning. I want to see what's going on.

Where's Peeta?

My heart is about to explode with all the weight that is pressing upon it, fighting for relief, for breath, for peace.

I hear footsteps and shuffling and a frustrated grunt a few feet to my left. That must be Peeta. I feel a tiny bit of weight lift off my chest. He's still here with me, just like he said. They didn't take him from me.

Now, I gather strength to face what's ahead. Most likely, we are on television for Panem to watch as we learn our lesson. Like Haymitch said, they'll want to make examples of us. I will not break. I will stay strong. They will never see me falter.

Then they pull the blindfold off.

It takes a few seconds for my eyes to fully adjust to the morning sunlight. I turn to focus on seeing Peeta, making sure he's okay. Finally, after he, too, struggles with the brightness of this new setting, he finds my eyes, and we just take each other in for a few moments, unwilling and afraid to face whatever lies before us. I make my eyes speak to him once again, and I can tell he does the same because I can feel his love deposit energy and strength and life into my heart. I can do this. I can do this.

I turn around, and find myself looking at the same stage I leapt toward hours ago, when little Iris was chosen as tribute. This time, however, there are no Reaping bowls or tributes or important people from the Capitol. This time, I am staring up at several blindfolded people. It takes me a moment to recognize them with the fabric of the blindfolds and gags concealing their faces, but when I do, I am struck lame at the realization of what the Capitol is planning.

Now, I'm not so sure that I will be able to stay strong.


	16. Chapter 16: For Freedom

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* * *

Prim.  
My mother.  
And all of Peeta's family.  
Peacekeepers stand before them.  
Guns in their hands.

I hear a muffled noise from Peeta; it is stifled by the fabric tied around his mouth. Again, he tries to yell something, and I can hear the desperation in his tone, the hopelessness.

My body is completely numb. I'm paralyzed. Everything is happening in slow motion. My mind is racing, but the world around me is inching by, unreal. None of this is real. I'm in another dream-vision. Not real.

_Not real.  
Not real._

I shake my head. Nothing changes.  
I move to pinch myself, but instead, I feel a sharp twinge of pain pulse up my wrist as the binding that is holding my hands together digs into my skin.

Pain. I can feel physical pain. That must mean this is real. But I can't feel anything else, not until my eyes settle on a bound and gagged and helpless Prim.

The sight of her causes a fiery pain to shoot through my chest. And suddenly, everything catches up with me.  
I hear Peeta's sobs next to me.  
I smell sweat and I taste the salt from my skin.

I feel something pounding in my eardrums... the sound of my own heart.

"Prim," I croak through the fabric pressed across my mouth. I try again, "Prim!" I yell in a muffled voice that does not sound like mine, the voice of someone breaking into a million pieces. Then, the fire in my chest builds and begins to consume me.

I start to fight against the forces holding me back: the ropes, chains, bindings, and the gag. My teeth tear at the fabric, and I'm somehow able to move it off my mouth.

"Mom! Prim!" I shout. Then, almost involuntarily, I yell the most important thing I can think of, "I love you!"

I begin weeping loudly, but no one comes to shut me up. Then, I think of Peeta as he continues to sob next to me. He is still unable to speak through the fabric on his mouth, so I speak up for him, "We both love all of you!" I say, turning to take in the four people standing beside my mother and Prim to my left, each of them paralyzed with fear. I never really got to know any of them because Mrs. Mellark complicated things so much, but now, at the end of it all, I feel that I know and love each of them because Peeta does, even Mrs. Mellark; it seems so silly to hold a grudge now.

My eyes drift back to Prim; I don't know if she knows where she is or what's about to happen, but I can see the rapid rising and falling of my little sister's chest. She is terrified, but I can't save my family this time. My legs finally stop working, and I fall to the ground.

Without thinking, I do the only thing I can think of to calm her down: I close my eyes and I sing.  
I sing like I have done so many times before. Like those times when I had to scare the nightmares away, to sooth the grief from our father's passing, to ease the pain of a scraped knee, to fill the spaces of an empty stomach...

I hear guns click, but I refuse to open my eyes. I keep singing. I keep reliving every previous memory I have had with my family, and I sing them out through my song. Every word is filled with love.

Other voices are singing along, and I begin to doubt my sanity once again, but I keep singing.

A few moments later, it hits me. They aren't people's voices. These voices belong to birds, to mockingjays, like the one on my gold pin. Still, I don't open my eyes; I just keep singing...

"Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm..."

The voices have stopped. Once again, it's just my own voice. I guess the mockingjays are listening to me sing, just like they used to do with my father.

"Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I—"

Six shots—one after another—ring out, followed by six thuds. I flinch after each one. By the final shot, I feel removed from the present, far away from my reality, from death and pain and fear.

"...love you," I finish.

I have no more songs to sing, no more tears to shed. It's over. They are gone. Just like my father.

Even though it feels like a million years have passed—so much has changed so quickly—the whole thing only lasted a few minutes. It's funny how it only takes a few minutes to move from life into death. It's so simple, so easy...

I feel myself being lifted and untied from the post, but I don't register what's happening. I don't care what's happening. Nothing matters now. The people I love are dead, lying in their own blood, and I couldn't do anything to save them.

I feel something poking my back. It's a gun. I keep moving my legs forward, sometimes stumbling because of the numbness in my body. Soon we stop, and I take in my surroundings: I am standing in the hallway of the same prison that I spent the night in last night. Muffled voices fight for my recognition, and I try to refuse them, but one demands entry. It's familiar but out-of-place.

"Katniss! Listen to me!" I am finally able to distinguish the voice that is shouting at me. It's Darius, the Peackeeper. My thoughts are coherent enough to recognize the strangeness of this encounter. I decide to try and care for a few minutes, so I can hear whatever he is trying to say; it must be important. My eyes connect with Darius', ready to hear him.

"Listen, you have to get out of here. It's not safe for you anymore," he says urgently. At the same time, he is cutting the fabric from my face and the binding from my hands. "If you take the door at the end of the hallway and turn right, you'll find the emergency exit. It'll open up behind the Justice building. I've disabled the alarms, so that should buy you some time but not much. You need to get deep into the forest," he explains as he moves to free Peeta as well.

Peeta.  
I'm not alone. Peeta is still here. We still have each other.

And Gale... Gale is still alive. He probably has no idea any of this happened, and he won't get home for several hours. We won't have time to get him from the mines; we won't even have time to tell Hazelle what's going on. They already told me that they won't come without Gale, so there's no point in trying.

The realization that people I love are still alive and depending on me forces a sudden bolt of energy and adrenaline to wake me from my paralysis. I listen carefully to Darius' instructions as he continues.

"Head north toward District 13. I know this is a lot to take in, but trust me... Thirteen survived the bombings. They have been notified of your situation and will be awaiting your arrival. They are trying to infiltrate the other Districts with rebels to promote uprisings and open rebellion against the Capitol," he says.

"What?! It's true? Thirteen is really alive?" Peeta asks incredulously. Like me, he has obviously regained his composure enough to focus. We both realize that, right now, we must press on. We will no doubt have enough time to grieve later.

"Yes. Haymitch Abernathy and I are some of District 13's correspondents in Twelve. Something big is about to happen, and I think you both may have a part to play in this before the end. There's no time for more questions. Get to Thirteen and they will tell you whatever you want to know," he finishes, pushing us toward the door. "Now go! Hurry!"

At his words, I take everything that has happened in the last half hour and push it aside as if it never even happened. I watch as Peeta realizes he must do the same. His eyes, though sad and tired, narrow in determination. We both lock eyes for a moment, and then we begin to run for the woods, for freedom.


End file.
